Mnemosyne
by breizhbit
Summary: Tina is always turning up where she's least wanted, and the consequences that she suffers now have destroyed her memory, her career, and her marriage. Newt hopes that a cure can be developed, but they must travel to London, immersing Newt in his past while Tina struggles to remember her own.
1. Chapter 1

Clutching his case in one hand and a tattered newspaper in the other, Newt ascended the slightly dilapidated stair of the cottage porch where his sister-in-law sat in the chair of a cracked wicker sofa set overseeing some mending spells. Something must have gone wrong with one, as her golden curls were bent downward to sort out a tangle of wool and she didn't appear to notice him. Funny that she hadn't been alerted by the warding.

Newt's gaze slid off to the side, but his words came straight to the point. "How is she?"

Blue eyes blinked and snapped up to meet his. While lowering her wand in one hand, the other went over her heart in surprise. Queenie leapt up and knocked against the wooden table she'd been sitting beside.

"Newt! You're back! Geez, ya almost gave me a heart attack! Oh. I'm sorry you had such a rough trip. But I'm glad you got here so fast—Tina would be too, if, ya know, she could be…" Queenie bit her lip and trailed off, nervously turning her attention back to the domestic spellwork at her side.

This was a partial answer, Newt supposed. Nothing had changed then. He looked out over the lawn. His wife walked down in the tall grass by the river, her long white dress and shawl fluttering behind her in the breeze. Her hair was longer than it had been the last time he'd seen her. Newt had actually apparated by the road even though the cottage had no anti-apparation defense, just so that he could walk up the curving gravel drive and wave to her. She hadn't responded, instead staring out across the water at the ducks and flantanagers that swam gracefully in the flowing water, past the edges that had already frozen. Since Queenie's legilimency was strongest when someone was hurting, he didn't bother trying to put any of this into words for her; his pain was so overwhelming he thought he might choke on it if he tried to speak of it.

It had been five frantic weeks since he'd last seen Tina, and before that he'd barely had three months altogether with her. Their rushed wedding had been a giddy, joyful gap in otherwise dangerous and angst-filled adventures as they and their respective departments did their best to keep up with the machinations of Gellert Grindelwald. Despite all of the disturbing scenes they had encountered, Newt knew there would never be anything more horrifying than finding Tina unconscious on the floor of that filthy back-alley flat in Brooklyn.

If only he had been quicker to put things together, if only she had waited to tell him—or anyone!—that she had worked out the location of the hideout. That was the best and worst of Tina: wonderful instincts for getting to the bottom of a situation coupled with absolutely awful timing. It had taken him a mere few hours of observation to put together that hypothesis after meeting her, and he still hadn't disproved it now after more than two years had gone by. But never before had it brought them quite so much trouble as now.

Though Tina had survived the cuts and bruises and a nasty blow to the head, her memory had been forcefully wiped with none of the usual finesse that left the recipient able to function normally. As incredibly thankful as Newt was that she hadn't been subjected to a killing curse, it was still a mystery just how it happened that Tina had avoided that fate when she'd been so roughly handled otherwise. The Aurors in New York refused to even let her inside headquarters, saying that her continued existence meant that she was most likely a trap-a kind of human incendiary device created by Grindelwald. Newt had loudly argued that in that case she would have been properly obliviated and none of them would have the slightest idea anything had gone wrong, but no one seemed willing to hear him. Their best healers hadn't been able to do a thing for her past mending her scrapes.

Now Tina floated between adolescent memories and a dreamlike state that made it dangerous to leave her alone with a wand. At times, her Auror training seemed to come back partially, and she would panic, begging for her wand until someone, usually Queenie, caved and gave it to her. They'd decided it was best for Tina to leave the city while Newt was traveling, and Queenie had been staying north of the city with her in a little cottage on the banks of the Hudson river that belonged to their aunt. The river was beautiful, but it was also a huge body of moving water, and Tina was standing awfully close...

"She should be safe down there," Queenie said, in answer to his unspoken concern. "She's been real calm these past few days. And I've got her wand. She gave it up easy this last time. Why don't we go down and I can introduce you."

Ah yes, the most painful event he could possibly imagine, barring actually finding his wife beaten bloody on the dirty floor of a rat-hole apartment just hours after he'd begged her to wait for him to return. Newt had already done reintroductions twice and had no desire to do it again. 'Mrs. Scamander, I'd like to introduce myself. I'm your husband.' However they tried to dress it up, this was it in essence. The shock and disbelief mixed with horror that would show on her perfect lovely face played around in his mind. It was insupportable. And yet, if there was to be the slightest hope of improving Tina's condition he had to earn her trust. Over and over every day for the rest of their lives if need be.

Queenie set her mending back in motion with a flick of her wand and grabbed his arm. "Before we go down though, you've gotta tell me—did you find what you were looking for?"

Newt knocked his knee against the side of his battered case. "I've found...something. I honestly have no idea whether or not it will help Tina. There is a plant that grows beneath the cliffs of Swooping Evil's nesting grounds that the locals have used to combat the effects of its venom. Mostly it heals the outward effects, but they have stories of it returning memories in higher concentrations. It's...not got a very nice reputation. Swooping Evil's venom is known to remove only traumatic memories, so this herb is used as a memory stimulant in cases where a subject is suppressing a mental trauma that keeps them from healing, or if others believe the patient is hiding information on a threat to them all. As far as I can tell, it's only non-magic users that have tried to work with it, so I have some hope that in wizarding hands it will prove useful."

"And you want to try to giving it to Tina?"

Queenie looked doubtful and hopeful all at once. It didn't take a legilimens to tell she was thinking that the current state of affairs could not continue. Newt agreed.

"Not me," he said. "No. I'm sorry, but if there's to be any experimentation it absolutely must be done under the supervision of a potions expert. They've got a new potions master at Hogwarts who recently left a post at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies who is supposed to be the top of the line. I couldn't get permission to take Tina to Hogwarts, as your old bosses at MACUSA have listed her as a potential international threat. However, I've finally got Picquery to agree to try treating her at St. Mungo's and this potions expert has agreed to come down to supervise the procedure. MACUSA liked that—once I hinted there might be a cure they started yapping about all the things Tina might be able to tell them about Grindelwald, or whoever it was that left her in Brooklyn."

"But St. Mungo's is in London! Teenie's never been there—she'll be so confused and alone."

Newt winced. "I had hoped that I would be able to explain some of this to her. Does she not seem to be developing any new permanent memories then?"

Treatment at St. Mungo's would be a difficult undertaking if he couldn't convince Tina to trust him before the journey. He could perhaps sedate her and take her in his case, but he hated the thought of keeping her that way.

Queenie put her head to the side, perhaps trying to ignore Newt's agonizing broadcast of his thoughts long enough to answer his question.

"It's hard to say. We've both got a lot of memories of this place—we'd come up to the cottage regularly with our parents before they died. Ma thought the city air was no good for growing girls. Then our aunt would let us stay here during summer vacation. And now, Tina seems to be kinda stuck in thoughts of that time. I tried to catch her up on things, but I'm not sure what sunk in. But she's been way more even-tempered than before you left-and no, Newt, I don't think it's cause you weren't there."

Hearing that fear voiced aloud didn't defang it, instead guilt echoed through him. Newt turned away from Queenie, turned away from where Tina was slowly walking through the brown grass by the river, and pressed his forehead against the peeling white siding of the porch, trying to get himself together. He hadn't honestly expected that Tina would suddenly be back to normal, but seeing her wandering around vacant and confused again brought back all the pain of his hurried departure. It brought back her cruel words, unknowingly spoken.

He looked blankly around the porch, taking in the spare furnishings and the faded red rag rug by the thin-paned glass door that led into the small house. Newt tried to remind himself that Tina did, in fact, like him, and that he certainly hadn't forced her to marry him by any stretch of the imagination. Once upon a time, barely a few months ago, she had quite happily stowed away in his case, surfacing only for laughing turns around the deck, avoiding anyone who might be on the lookout for an unticketed passenger on a fully-booked ocean liner. She'd told him in no uncertain terms that they had to be married before they left, and that he wasn't getting away from her so easily, ever again.

And then he had turned around and left anyway. They'd returned to New York so he could answer a summons from MACUSA, leaving Tina on her own to investigate the disappearance of a no-maj reporter in Brooklyn. He'd left her in mortal peril, and then again to rush around Equatorial Guinea desperately searching for hope. All his philosophical bunk about worry meaning he had to suffer twice went straight out the window after finding Tina. Perhaps it was actually guilt rather than worry, or perhaps he just hadn't had anything precious enough to worry over before.

Queenie walked down the wide wooden steps that had once been painted green, heading across the sloping lawn toward the pale figure by the water's edge. It seemed unlike Queenie not to have freshened up the paint if she'd been there for a while. It was cold, almost December, and the shallow water at the bank of the river crackled with thin ice. Newt trotted obediently behind Queenie, the frozen grass crunching beneath his boots, trying to push his misery down enough to make a decent first impression on his wife. Fourth time's the charm?

"Stop worrying-she'll know something's wrong," Queenie whispered. She quickly looked Newt over, brushing off his blue coat and straightening his tie. She gave up brushing with her hand and used her wand to extract a great cloud of dust from his coat. She gave it a pat and then turned him in the direction of her sister, who had not even looked at them, but instead was staring blankly at the icy edges of the Hudson river.

"Here we go—Tina! Teenie, come here for a minute. There's somebody I want you to meet."

Tina finally turned to them. Her eyes were wide and glassy, and Newt was struck once again with an immense sense of loss. How had he ever been so lucky as to touch that perfect skin, to run his hands through the waves of her hair? To hear her laugh. Now she was vague, unfocused, and a little pale, like one would expect from someone recovering from a long illness. But her posture was still straight, and her stride was strong as she came up to them, staring through him for a long moment. He tried to pull a smile, but felt so sick to his stomach that it probably wasn't much of one.

"Hello," he said finally.

Tina's gaze sharpened and focused on Newt's face. Her expression shifted, melting not into joy or even recognition, but into suspicion.

"Who's this guy?" she demanded of her sister, arms folded across her chest.

Queenie seemed heartened by this change, giving him a hopeful raise of the eyebrows. But Newt was unpleasantly reminded of the day before his departure, when Tina had become belligerent and he had been forced to subdue her so that she didn't hurt herself. Now's not then, he reminded himself. Stick to now. It was all he had in common with Tina after all.

"Tina, this is Newt. You know, I told you we were waiting for him to get back? He's—well, you've met before. Before you lost your memory. Do you remember anything?"

If Queenie was counting on the power of love to clear things up she was to be sadly disappointed in this case. Newt felt another bolt of misery lodge in his stomach. Queenie's hopeful tone seemed to also have a negative effect on Tina. She frowned more deeply.

Newt set down his case and ran his hand through his hair, then held out his hand to her. When she made no move to take it he put it behind his back and gave a small awkward bow.

"Newt Scamander, at your service," he said.

Tina nodded slowly, and held his gaze. So far so good, Newt felt. Tina stepped back quickly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What do you want?"

Newt held up his hands, taking an instinctive half step back of his own.

"All I want is to help you, Tina. If I can. What do you know about your condition?"

"My condition?" asked Tina. "I don't think any condition of mine is any business of a stranger." She paused, chewing on her lower lip and looking him over again. "Are you some kind of doctor?"

"I am not. But I'd like to take you to see some healers who might be able to help you."

"I'm not going anywhere with a stranger."

"Teenie," said Queenie. "We've had this talk. Just because you don't remember somebody doesn't mean you haven't met them. You gotta trust me. You're having trouble with your memory honey."

Tina looked at her sister so fiercely that Queenie rocked back on her heels, hurt playing across her face.

"Since when—memory problems or no memory problems—did you become the boss of me Regina Anne Goldstein? I've spent my whole life since Mom and Pop died taking care of you and this this is what I get?"

Queenie opened her mouth to answer but Newt cut her off.

"I'm so sorry Miss Goldstein," said Newt, trying not to wince as he addressed her. "But there are facts that you should be made aware of so that we can all make the best decisions for your care." Newt looked to Queenie, question in his eyes. Could Tina handle the information he had to give her about her condition or would it be too much too soon? He made the thought quite distinct.

Queenie shrugged and responded out loud.

"She's more alert right now than I've seen her in the past couple weeks. Anyway, there's no harm in trying. If she's not ready she'll just forget it again," Queenie said sadly. "There's been more than a few times that I thought I was getting through to her and it didn't stick."

It was wise to be prepared for the worst outcome but Newt still felt nervous. If this did stay with Tina, what he was about to say to her would shape the tone of their journey, and indeed their relationship until she got her memories back. If she got them back.

Queenie wrapped her arms around her thin jacket. "Brr, it's getting chilly out here. Let's go inside and talk this out, shall we?"

Tina didn't respond to her sister but gathered her long white skirts about her and set off for the cottage at a furious pace.

Queenie hung back by the riverbank to whisper to Newt.

"I know she sounds angry," said Queenie, "but like I said, this is the most awake I've seen her. Probably since you left. If she's got to go to London, it's worth a try seeing if we can talk her into it on her own. I know you don't wanna sedate her. I don't blame you. But if it's what's best for Tina in the long run…"

Queenie trailed off, then hurried after her sister without finishing. She was being pretty vague herself. These past few weeks of caring for her sister on her own must have been hard on her. Tina and Queenie had grown up relying on each other, and as Newt had learned in the days after the attack, suddenly being responsible for making decisions for another person was very wearing.

They entered the cottage. Newt knew that though they'd visited with their parents, this cottage had belonged to Tina and Queenie's grandparents and that their aunt had inherited the house in the city as well as the cottage upon Tina and Queenie's grandparent's death, only a few years after the death of their parents. Newt still didn't know why their grandparents hadn't provided for the girls but it seemed like a bad time to ask. He had at last put together that this time they were staying at the cottage without their aunt's permission. For one thing the place looked distinctly shabby in a way that Queenie usually disliked, and for another he could see that the security workings were mangled. Opening spells were not Queenie's strong suit and Tina must not have been up to helping.

Tina led them through the small cottage which did not look like it had ever been the home of two young girls. The furniture was ancient and severe, much of it too large and heavy for the limited space. Tina passed through the more formal dining room and into the tiny kitchen at the side of the house. There were three small chairs were already arranged around a spindly table which was pressed against the wall. Newt wondered if Jacob had been up to visit. For Queenie's sake, he hoped so.

Tina flung herself into the farthest chair with the air of a sulky teenager.

"Well, mister?" she asked.

Newt carefully perched in the chair across from her, setting down his case beside his chair. He tried to meet Tina's eyes, but quickly gave up and looked to the side out the window at the encroaching night.

"As I said, Miss Goldstein, I'd like to help you. You are aware that you were attacked?"

"Yeah. Queenie told me." Tina nodded at her sister, who was setting in motion the spells for tea. "But I don't remember nothing about it."

That was such an understatement that Newt began to chuckle nervously, slightly hysterically.

Tina glared at him. "You think this is funny mister?"

From the far side of the kitchen where she was conducting the orchestra of tea preparation, Queenie paused. "You don't understand Teenie. Newt is really worried about you. You don't remember but you two were real close."

This was patently the wrong thing to say to Tina. Her glossy black eyebrows rose and she her nostrils flared slightly reminding him of an uneasy horse.

"What do you mean close?" She practically snarled. Her hands once again crossed tightly over her chest.

Newt tried to run some damage control. "She means in part, that I was the one—well, the one to find you after your attack."

Tina leaned forward, interested.

"Where did you find me? Were there Dark Wizards there?"

"No. You were alone when I found you. I don't know who attacked you." Newt closed his eyes against the memory of Tina sprawled on the floor.

Queenie interceded, "That's not really important right now Tina. What we need to talk to you about is what we're gonna do to try to get your memories back."

Queenie plucked a cup and saucer from the air as the teapot poured red-gold liquid into it. She looked at Newt and raised her eyebrows. "So tell us honey what is going to happen now?"

Newt swallowed and wished that that cup of tea were already there for him to fuss with while he gathered his words. He had never been particularly good at people and now it seems more important than ever that he not annoy Tina. He needed to be clear.

"We are going to go to London," Newt said in a voice that he hoped was both soothing and firm. "I have found a plant on my journey that may be able to improve the effectiveness of memory restoration potions. I need to speak with the Hogwarts potion master once we arrive in London. He can travel down to meet us at the hospital next weekend. But if we miss him we will have to wait months for his next trip to London."

"So soon?" asked Queenie."Will we be able to get there in time?"

"There's a steamer that leaves tomorrow night," said Newt. "I know it's a rush, but there's very little else to be done if we'd like to help Tina. Which I would like very much."

Newt looked down at the table. He didn't know what he could say that would convince Tina of his good intentions.

Queenie came to the table with the tea service. She passed out the cups.

"MACUSA won't make any trouble about traveling with her?" asked Queenie.

Newt leaned down and began fiddling with his case.

"I stopped in at headquarters directly after I got off the ship. At first I was forced to speak to Abernathy, but once I finally got an audience with the President, she signed the travel papers willingly enough. I have a thick stack of files to personally deliver to the Minister of Magic in London. She also insisted that any travel be conducted along proper channels, with up-to-date documents. Everything has to be done to the letter, so that the Ministry can't accuse MACUSA of anything. She seemed to think that Tina would be likely to start an international incident, but once I told them that there was a chance of Tina regaining her memories they started going on about having a lead to the whereabouts of Grindelwald. Picquery decided it was worth the risk. These are supposed to insulate MACUSA against any accusations of not disclosing relevant information."

Newt held up his hand with a sheaf of papers taken from the Muggle Worthy compartment of his case. Tina lunged across the table and grabbed them.

"Are these all about me?" she asked. "Wow!"

"Wait please," said Newt. Some of the files included pictures of Tina's injuries. "There are some things in there that you may not be ready to see."

Tina frowned.

"If there is information about me in this folder, mister, then I ought to be able to look at it. Queenie has been telling me that I'm twenty-six, and an auror. That I'm an adult. So I ought to be able to know what's going on."

Newt struggled with this for a moment but since Tina was already opening the file he gave up and sunk back into his chair to await her reaction.

Tina read the name on the file. "This isn't me." she said. "It says Porpentina Esther, sure, and that's my name, but the last name is wrong. This is for somebody named Porpentina Scamander."

Newt took a breath. He would be matter-of-fact. He wouldn't allow either of them to feel uncomfortable. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the scratched wooden surface of the table before him.

"That is your current name. The fact of the matter is that you and I have been married these several months."

Tina looked over the top of the paperwork at him, shocked. The gasp and the scraping of the chair as she rose from the table in horror were as bad as he had imagined. Instead of escaping, Tina leaned over the table at him, her curiosity having overpowered her disgust.

"If we're married mister, where have you been this whole time?"

Newt felt this accusation straight in his gut. He should have been here with Tina. Or should have somehow taken her with him, rather than leaving her to become so unfamiliar with him.

"There were circumstances…" he started.

"Tina! Enough!" said Queenie unable to keep silent any longer. "You have got to understand that Newt has been searching for a way to help you. And he's found one. You are going to go to London and find a way to get you back to your old self. If you could hear yourself now, you'd be so mad. You love Newt!"

"I have no idea who this guy is! He can't even look me in the eye!"

Tina's shoulders were heaving, whether with anger or tears he wasn't sure. Newt scrunched further into the thin chair.

Queenie looked over her eyes wide and sympathetic. She could surely read his thoughts like a flashing neon sign.

"Teenie," Queenie said more calmly, "if Newt thinks that going to London is your best chance of getting better—of regaining your memories or at the very least getting stabilized, we've got to take his advice. I can see the problem, you know. Inside you. Everything's shifting, ever since the accident, always shifting. It's like the beach at Coney Island when we were kids. The tide comes in and however much time you spend on your sand castle, however great it is, the waves wash over it and it gets destroyed. You don't have any firm ground, any way of keeping out of the water, and it scares you so much. It's awful. But none of that is Newt's fault."

"Well, whose fault is it then?" yelled Tina, tears now openly streaking down her face.

Queenie looked at her sadly. Tina self-consciously wiped at her eyes with her sleeve.

"So I'm just supposed to pretend to be married to this English guy?" Tina said, looking at Newt in dismay.

"The papers are just to get you to London, Miss Goldstein," said Newt, "After we've done as much as we can for you then you will be free to decide how you want to live. I don't expect anything from you."

Tina rose, trembling.

"Fine. Tell me when it's time to go."

She ran out of the room, the effect of her exit somewhat diminished by bumping into the door frame on the way out of the kitchen.

"Don't worry, it'll be okay," Queenie said, getting up to clear Tina's place. "She'll go to London, get her memory back, and we can put all this behind us."

Newt wasn't sure if she was talking to him or trying to reassure herself.

Queenie quirked her lips. "Me neither," she said.


	2. Chapter 2

The door to the cottage opened with a bang, and Newt jolted, scrambling for his wand. It really was odd being inside a wizarding home with broken wardings. Generally one had advance warning. Instead of some barely imagined threat, a dapper looking Jacob Kowalski stuck his head around the frame of the kitchen and removed a smart hat from his head. He took in their somber faces, and the slam of the door upstairs.

"Uh-oh," he said. "Tina not doing well today?"

Queenie's face lit up. "Oh honey! Newt's back! Come in, come in, I'll make you some supper. It won't take a minute."

"Don't go to any trouble Queenie, if you've got stuff to do," he said sincerely.

"To tell ya the truth I could use something to do. You come on in and say hi to Newt. He just arrived a little bit ago." She set about preparing a meal, and Newt suspected she'd been working on shielding herself from reading other people by the shuttered look in her eyes.

"Hey Newt," said Jacob. "How was your trip? Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I found something, I'm not so sure whether or not it'll live up to our hopes. But I shall have to take Tina to London, and she did not react well when I told her." Newt gestured overhead, where loud thuds seemed to signal Tina's displeasure as she banged around upstairs.

"She was a bit agitated, but she was listening. She became upset only after I gave her the travel papers from MACUSA."

"Why's that?" said Jacob with a swift glance at Queenie. She looked down at the oven as it flared to life around two beautifully assembled pies.

"Oh, because they have her current legal name on them," Newt said, trying for a light tone and miserably failing. "You know, her married name."

"She didn't take it well?"

"No. The news was not at all acceptable to her."

"Aww, buddy, I'm sorry. But she'll come around once she gets to know you again. I mean, she fell in love with you once, right?"

Jacob's supposedly rhetorical question did not make Newt feel better. What if it were blind luck or maybe the intensity of their original circumstances that caused her to feel kindly toward him? Heaven knew that he didn't, as a general rule, make a good impression on people.

"I don't know. She seemed not merely upset, but afraid," said Newt, trying to puzzle out Tina's reactions.

"She is afraid, but it's not really about you."

Queenie, still in the midst of setting the table and orchestrating the beverages pouring in midair, talked as she worked.

"It's a real mess inside her head right now. I don't know if you noticed, but Tina seemed to be stuck at about fourteen or fifteen years old. She's always been a little…uncomfortable around men, so it's not that surprising that she's reacting badly to finding out she's married. But she's not disgusted by you. That's not it at all."

Queenie levitated a delicious smelling pot pie over to Jacob, followed by an additional one for Newt. He was surprised to find he was hungry. He'd been sure he was too keyed up to eat a thing. Queenie sat down between them.

"Tina and I had our supper earlier this afternoon. I'm not sure whether she's gonna want to come down from there before bed…" Queenie trailed off and Newt hurried to change the subject.

"I'm so glad to see you've been able to come. I wasn't sure whether you'd have been able to since leave the bakery. Are your assistants proving reliable?"

Jacob smiled. "Well, here's some news. I thought I was all alone in the world, but whatdya know, as soon as I've got that mention in the Times, relatives have been coming out of the woodwork. My cousin Lenny came down from Rochester, looking for a job. He seemed pretty sure he'd get one, since he brought the wife and kids along when he came to see me."

Queenie made a face. "Margery thought you'd be less likely to refuse if they showed up with all the kids. I don't really like you leaving the place with those guys. People always have selfish thoughts, but some of those, they seem like they might mean em."

"Aw, don't worry about Lenny and Margie. Everybody thinks about what it would be like if they had some good luck."

"Good luck! You dying and leaving Lenny the bakery isn't what I'd call good luck!"

Newt was shocked and turned to Jacob. "You gave a job to someone who told you they hoped to inherit the bakery?"

"Nah. They'd never say something like that-they just, you know, thought it. With Queenie around."

Queenie nodded primly. "And before you say it Jacob, I know better than anybody that these things go through people's heads—but there's no way I can approve of leaving them alone to shut you out of your own place."

Newt realized that they were talking about something specific.

"That's right, Newt," Queenie said to Newt as he caught up, "I've gotta come with you. There's no way that I can leave Tina when she needs me the most. I'm the only one she remembers, so seeing me looking the age I am always proves to her that she did lose her memory and she's not really fourteen again."

"And I wanna come too." Jacob crossed his arms. "I know you had to travel to find a way to help Tina, Newt, but this has been real hard on Queenie, being up here all by herself with nobody to help while I'm at the bakery in the city. If she has to go, I wanna be there with her. And with you. If there's anything I can do to help, even if it's just feeding your moon calves, I wanna do it."

"Oh." Newt choked a little on the emotion welling up in his chest. Being back in Equatorial Guinea had given him a sense of returning to his solitary nomadic existence. His friendships had started to feel a little unreal. Finding he still had them filled him with warmth. He wasn't alone.

"I truly believe that taking Tina to our hospital in London is her best chance for recovery."

"So tell me about this thing you found in Africa," Jacob said, returning to his steaming pot pie. "Was it a creature or just some regular old plant?"

Newt filled him in over the rest of dinner, and by the time Queenie had pressed a second helping of upside down cake on them both and moved them into the slightly less uncomfortable parlor, Newt was feeling much calmer.

"So, you think this treatment might take a while?" Jacob asked.

"I would never call myself an expert," Newt said, "but my work with magical creatures has given me cause to study potions lore the world over, and certain processes take time. I would guess that even the most accomplished potions master in the world would also need to be cautious about the dosage—it might take some time to get up to an effective level if one isn't familiar with the herb. And I have seen no evidence that this plant has even been cataloged."

"Time as in weeks? Years? Decades?" Jacob had developed a tendency not to take anything about the wizarding world for granted, something which was undoubtedly serving him well as the beau of a witch.

"Months, probably, is my best guess," said Newt.

"You can't leave those people alone with the bakery for months!" said Queenie. "They'll run amok! That place is your dream, Jacob."

Jacob reached over and put his hand over Queenie's where it rested on the sofa.

"But I also can't leave you alone over there in England having to care for your sister."

Newt started to say that he would be there, but he couldn't be sure that Tina would allow him to help. He'd help as much as she'd let him. Even if she didn't want him near her, he'd try to find a way to help that didn't upset her.

"I haven't heard anything from Tina in a while," Queenie said, looking down at Jacob's hand on hers. "Why don't you go check on her, Newt?"

Although he was probably the last person in the world that Tina would want checking on her at the moment, Newt felt that he could hardly say no to Queenie. For one, she had spent the past five weeks on unpaid leave of absence from work as the exclusive caregiver to his severely incapacitated wife while he'd gone scrambling about the globe. Additionally, she'd been forced to live far away from her beau, whom Newt was realizing from Jacob's doe eyes was ready to be left alone with his sweetheart. If it weren't for MACUSA's ridiculous laws, it would have been a double wedding, and Jacob and Queenie would already be married.

So Newt rose from the rather hard horsehair loveseat he'd been occupying in the parlor and tentatively ascended the narrow stair, trying not to bang his case against the banister on the way up. The upstairs consisted of a short hallway where the stair let out with a door to a bedroom on either side. One door was partly closed, while the other was wide open. Newt peeked through the open doorway and found Queenie's typical mild disarray. He tried not to look too hard at exactly what type of garments were strewn over the bedposts of the heavy oak bed and quickly stepped back into the hall.

Newt tentatively rapped his knuckles against the other white painted door, and when there was no answer, Newt even more tentatively pushed it the rest of the way open. He carefully set his case down in the hall, double-checking the clasps, and then peered into the room. At first he couldn't see Tina at all. The bed was empty, the chair by the window vacant. Newt stepped inside the door, concerned, and realized that Tina was slumped on the wide wooden planks of the floor beside the door, fast asleep. From her posture curled up against the doorframe, it was evident that she'd been doing her best to listen in on the downstairs conversation until she had become too drowsy to continue.

Her wavy dark hair made a curtain over her face, and she'd gotten into her pyjamas, a familiar green set, silky and long. Before he could stop himself, Newt had fallen to his knees beside her, brushing her hair back from her face so that he could see the sweep of her cheek. She remained asleep, but nuzzled her face into his hand in a way not entirely unlike a graphorn pup. Newt took a short breath. The unconscious affection sent such a wave of longing through him that he had to look away, even as he reveled in the feeling of her soft skin on his hand. He reminded himself that this was a basic animal response to touch, and as such meant nothing.

It would be so much easier if he could think of her as a creature, and could gauge her responses thusly. Unfortunately human beings were infinitely more confusing, with self-awareness and all the attendant complications. Perhaps though, since she was asleep, it would be permissible to care for her a little as if she were simply another member of the magical animal kingdom. Also, Newt justified to himself, Tina was his wife, whether she remembered or not, and it was part of that agreement for him to honor her in sickness and health, and that included caring for her. She might prefer Queenie at the moment, but he'd already depended upon Queenie to do everything for him while he'd been absent, and Queenie needed a break.

Without allowing himself to prevaricate any further, Newt slid his arms underneath Tina's body. She'd lost weight, and it was upsettingly easy to lift her onto the neatly made double bed. Newt set her down, neatly untucked one corner of the bedclothes, and then slid her under them. Despite being rather a tall woman, Tina looked tiny in the sea of plain white covers. His hands lingered on her shoulders, tucking the covers securely around her. Despite his best intentions, he drifted into a morally ambiguous realm, no longer technically helping Tina, and instead foisting his unwanted presence on her while she slept. As if in response to his return to self-recrimination, Tina's slender hand slid from the covers and grasped his. Newt held it, half-expecting Tina's eyes to slide open and to hear her admonish him to get into bed already, they were going to have to get up early and didn't he think he ought to get a little sleep before the sun rose on him again?

He tried to gently extract his hand, reminding himself that with her memory compromised, Tina might become very agitated if she woke to find him there. Her grip on his hand only tightened, drawing him closer. If only she would wake, not to scream, but to smile at him sleepily as he had become accustomed to over the weeks after they'd begun their life together. With a soft exhale, Tina kept hold of his arm and turned over, so that Newt was pulled onto the bed on his side with his front against her back. His heart raced as she unconsciously settled them into this position, going so far as to tuck their joined hands under her cheek. This was how Tina had preferred to sleep, during those precious nights between their wedding and the attack. There had been twenty-three of them. While he was traveling, Newt had done his best to remember every single one.

Was Tina remembering them while asleep? Remembering him? Or was this simply animal-Tina's response to a warm body near hers while relaxed and asleep?

Newt lay stiffly at first, trying to work out whether or not it was ethical for him to be there. On the one hand, certainly not: Tina did not remember him and had expressed nothing but shock and dismay when presented with evidence that they were married. On the other hand though, she had pulled him down to the bed, draping his arm across her. And they were married. He still clung to the hope that that meant something. It certainly did to him, and had to Tina, he was sure of that. On the other hand, which was really the first one again, he had to honor Tina's current choices, which she could only be expected to make with the information available to her at the moment. Even when it led her to consider him a high-handed stranger, coming into her house and dictating her course of treatment to her.

As Newt tried to gear himself up to move, something shifted. Perhaps there was a change in Tina's scent, or maybe it was merely the vagaries of the human mind, but he was suddenly shot through with desire. His chest seized, and he could scarcely breathe. Every indrawn breath, rather than returning him to calm, filled him with the smell of Tina, lemongrass and lavender. His cheeks burned as he desperately fought the memories of being together with her. He extracted his hand from her grip and bounded across the room, shame racing through him. It was one thing, he thought, to provide body warmth and comfort to his sleeping wife, whether or not she could remember him. It was entirely another to become excited in the bed of a woman who had lost all memory of the intimate moments they had shared.

Newt left the room, not allowing himself a backward look over his shoulder, grabbing his case where he had left it out in the hall.

Newt had set his case down in the corner by the stair opposite the door to Tina's room. He swiftly opened the lid and descended into its depths. Now, much like any time that the world of human interaction became too much for him, he needed the solace of his space and his creatures. They must have sensed his upset, though, because as he stormed out of his shed only Dougal the demiguise came near. He paused at the door while Newt dramatically banged his head several times against the doorframe. Dougal wrapped his arms around Newt in what resembled a brief hug while he carefully removed Pickett from where he had been hiding underneath Newt's collar.

"Pickett? Were you there the whole time? You might have said something," Newt grumbled. "Especially during the part when I was being a complete idiot."

Pickett responded with an unsympathetic noise, _what part would that be then?_ , and Dougal loped off to replace Pickett on the bowtruckle wiggentree. For the best in Newt's opinion. Indeed, he needed to move, and Pickett would likely be in the way.

The space hummed with the comforting sounds of the beasts, and Newt set to feeding them and looking after the space. It was significantly more extensive than it had been two years before. Thankfully the scarabeus mangrilana majora, or giant dung beetles, did the hard work of mucking stalls, but there was always excess to banish to some lucky farmer's compost pile. Newt had spotted some likely fields on the train on the way up from the city, so he got to work shifting the soiled straw out of the case and banishing it. If there was the slightest chance that he might have to keep Tina down here during the journey, he needed to get the place presentable. In fact, if she needed a place to sleep, it might be best to set it up now, before they left the cottage for the city in the morning. Newt had a hammock strung up high in the rafters of his shed, but truth be told he usually curled up with Dougal or one of the other beasts who were on the cozier end of the spectrum when he got too tired. That wouldn't do for Tina though. Not if she couldn't remember anything about them.

Newt cleared a little place between the wiggentree where the Bowtruckles lived and the Niffler's den, a little ways off across from the erumpant enclosure. The trees made it seem a little more picturesque, Newt thought. He stalked back over to the shed and began sorting through some of the bits of wood and siding that he had stored along the back side. When he thought he had enough to work with, he levitated the lot over to the space he had cleared. He carefully set out a framework of stones for a small foundation, and then used some fancy spellwork to assemble the nicest bits of wood into a fairly passable parquet floor. The walls went up next, enclosing just enough space for a bed and a chest of drawers. He didn't have these, so he'd have to ask Queenie for suggestions of where to summon some furnishings from.

Unfortunately with their current budget, buying them new was out of the question. Newt had long ago burned through the advance that he'd received for his book on a trip to bring a copy to Tina as well as paying for a spatial extension for his case, which had taken some pricey specialty charmwork that required four wizards to work in tandem. He'd been one of them, and he'd been able to call in favors to make up another two of the four, but the last had needed to be hired at an exorbitant rate. Royalties from his book were coming in, but it was mostly eaten up, quite literally, by his creatures. He'd gotten to the point where the quantities he needed to feed his creatures no longer fell in the grey area of living off the land that wizards were allowed to exploit. There was no way he could claim to have come across three wild boar a week while residing in London. Meat now had to be ordered from the butcher's just like for any were laws about this, since the one thing that could convince a muggle that magic existed like nothing else in the world could was the suspicion that someone was stealing from them. Lifting a few bales of hay from a barn was far more effective than setting a pack of piskies loose in a muggle home for getting a citation for breaking the statute of secrecy.

The first few days of his marriage to Tina were spent draining Newt's travel allowance from the Ministry by setting them up in a nice hotel and booking a steamer to South America, where Tina had agreed to help him with some field work. There had been lots of sleeping in tiny inns and camping under the stars during that 'd hardly got to the part of the Amazon that Newt had wanted to explore when a summons had arrived via the local magical administration ordering them back to New York immediately. While MACUSA had no real authority to force Newt to do anything, Tina was still a citizen and an Auror, so even though she had filed for a leave of absence, she had needed to return. When they returned to New York, MACUSA had put them up in a decent hotel. It was the least they could do since all they really needed was Newt's opinion on whether or not increasing reports of magical creature sightings were due to the waning effects of the Swooping Evil Venom or if there were some plot of Grindelwald's afoot in the city once again.

It had turned out to be both, which had not pleased President Picquery.

But now, with another journey to Africa mostly paid for and tickets to be bought on the ocean liner back to England, they were operating very close to the wire. He knew Tina had some savings of her own, but Newt absolutely couldn't ask Queenie for it. Not unless it became absolutely vital for Tina's care.

He sighed and returned to constructing the tiny cabin.. He gave it windows on three sides, all mis-matched since his stock of glass was low. But he had enough wooden shingles for a steeply pitched roof, one that would hopefully keep the fwoopers from attempting to roost there, and would provide a little shelter from all the activity outside. He finished the place off with a little porch with a bench. He thought again about furnishings, toying with the idea of transfiguring something that he already had, but discarding the idea for something as big as a bed. Despite doing well in transfiguration classes at school, he hadn't used transfigurative arts much as an adult. Besides, no one wanted to sleep in a bed that was trying to turn itself back into a hippogryph.

Feeling like he'd finally returned to a place of calm, Newt determined that he ought to tell Queenie and Jacob that they'd need to be up early the next morning.

Newt ascended the stair, and stepped out of the case. He stood still, listening for any sound from Tina's room. It was completely silent, too silent really. It was dark, so someone must have put out all of the lights. Newt was quickly realizing that he must have disappeared for hours and everyone else had to be asleep. He was about to set an alarm spell for a few hours on, when he heard whispers. They weren't coming from downstairs, but from Queenie's bedroom, and Newt couldn't help but overhear.

"I'm scared, honey," said Queenie.

Despite only having a moderate knowledge of occlumency Newt almost instinctively closed himself off so as not to alert Queenie to his presence. It would be embarrassing for all involved.

"She's still acting funny?" Jacob's voice also came from inside the bedroom, something that Newt was embarrassed to say shocked him a little bit. Though Tina had alsway been much firmer on these sorts of matters than Queenie.

"Well yes, there's that of course. But I give her that potion from the healers every morning, but it just seems to make her sick. One minute she's alert, then she goes a little blank, and then she starts getting sick. She's getting real skinny. She's eating, but it's all coming back up. How are we gonna deal with that on a boat?"

"Oh gosh. That's awful. When did this start?"

"I guess a couple weeks after Newt left. She was pretty unstable that whole time, and still in the hospital, so maybe it's been longer and the nurses just hadn't told me. But I asked the doctor when he came to do a checkup and he said it might be a reaction to the obliviate injury, or it might be something totally different. But he insisted I keep giving her the calming potion no matter what."

"Did you tell Newt?"

"I didn't want to tell him right away. He was so nervous about seeing Tina. That poor guy. He cares about her so much and she doesn't even know who he is. It's just so sad!"

Queenie started to quietly sob, and Newt retreated back into his case. He set the least intrusive alarm spell he could think of for two hours before dawn and settled in his hammock to try to sleep, worries about Tina pervading his every thought.

 _A/N: I'm so happy that people are reading, following and favorite-ing! But my most especial thanks is to my lone reviewer. You're the best! Those other things are great, but hearing from readers in a review is how I know there are real people out there engaging with my story._

 _If anyone else could leave a comment, I would really appreciate it!_


	3. Chapter 3

The bells charm that Newt had chosen went off only an hour after he had finally drifted to sleep. Despite the pleasant ringing tone, Newt leapt from his hammock as if a raging erumpent were after him. He sprang up the stair, bounding out of his case in the upstairs hall of the cottage, stepping out of the case just as Tina's face emerged from around her swiftly opened door.

They both froze.

"Good—good morning Miss Goldstein."

Tina, still in her green silky pajamas, didn't respond. She crossed her arms across her chest and pushed past him to the head of the stairs. Before she could disappear completely, Newt said,

"Pardon me, but we'll need to get to the station soon. Could I assist you with any packing?"

Tina stopped on the top step and looked at him. Remembering her words of the night before, Newt kept his gaze on hers through massive force of will. Tina finally nodded.

"I'd do it myself but I can't find my wand anywhere."

Her brow furrowed, but then she descended the stair and was out of his sight. Newt frowned. Was she then unable to remember what they had spoken of last night? She seemed to have forgotten that Queenie had her wand, but she seemed to remember him from the evening before. He entered her room and looked around. The coverlet of the bed had been spread inexpertly, as witches and wizards tended to be when faced with basic household tasks and no magic. At least she had tried, which was better than most.

Newt took out his wand, summoning anything that belonged to Tina with a specialized packing charm, and began directing it into the trunk at the foot of her bed. The battered box would fit easily within his case of course, but they might look less conspicuous on the ocean liner if they had a little more luggage. Perhaps he'd get it out before they reached the docks. The lid thudded shut just as he heard Queenie out in the hall.

She poked her head around the frame, dressed and ready for traveling.

"Good morning Newt!"

"I was just packing up Tina's things." He stared at the bed, trying not to be so obviously pleased that Tina had allowed him to help. He eyed the bed and wondered if he should ask Queenie about one for Tina.

Of course this was obvious to Tina, and she gave him a big smile. "I'm so glad. And ya might as well take anything from in here that you can. This place belongs to our aunt, but we found out this month that she doesn't take her promise to our grandmother to take care of us real seriously, so forget her."

Newt blinked. Queenie sounded uncharacteristically bitter by the end of this.

"Apparently our aunt didn't feel like Tina should be her problem," she said. "I asked her if we could stay here, and she told me she couldn't stop me. She pretty much said she was through with our family. It's going to be obvious we were here, so we might as well take whatever we can use. Clean the whole place out if you need to."

"You don't think your aunt will cause trouble?" asked Newt.

Queenie sighed. "The thing is, even though she tried to shield her thoughts like usual, I could tell she lied to us about our inheritance. She took it all after our grandparents' death. She paid our school fees because someone woulda noticed if we dropped out, but then we were on our own. So for all I know all this ugly furniture she stashed up here shoulda been ours."

"Ah," said Newt.

"Take whatever you think we could use. I'm gonna make a quick breakfast, and then we'll be waiting on the porch."

Queenie descended the little stair with her bags levitating behind her.

-o-o-o-

Jacob and Newt had each bought round trip tickets, so to make things simpler, not to mention cheaper, Queenie and Tina opted to use the return tickets and let Jacob and Newt catch up with the creatures inside the case. The train ride back to the city took a little over two hours, and the girls stopped in a phone booth in Grand Central station to let Newt and Jacob out of the case. Newt was on high alert not to let anyone else out—that niffler would have a field day out in the busy great hall of the station.

They spent the bulk of the morning traveling down to the docks to reserve two first-class tickets aboard the ocean liner. It seemed prudent to get a cabin to themselves. To save money, Jacob and Queenie would be stowing away in Newt's case. They didn't get to SoHo until early afternoon. Jacob took Tina into the bakery to wait for all the customers to clear out so they could turn the sign to 'Closed' and prepare the staff for Jacob's absence.

Newt caught up with Queenie on the front stoop. "Am I right in understanding, then, that Jacob can't afford to close the bakery in his absence? Does he need to keep the bakery open to pay the bills?"

"The bakery's been doing real well…but Jacob has been doing his best to pay back the bank as fast as he can, so there's not a lot of profit. The kitchen appliances are all state of the art, and no-majs have to spend so much time on every step that he's got to have a decent staff. Thank goodness for Sam—he's supposed to be the dishwasher, but he's the only one Jacob can really trust with the recipes. Jacob says his Grandma would have loved Sam's delicate touch with fondant. I swear, the way that man can ice a cake, I can hardly believe he's not a wizard!"

Newt smiled at Queenie's enthusiasm.

"Why is this Sam not the manager instead of Lenny?"

Queenie's face immediately dropped instead of her cheer of the moment before. "Oh. That's because he's black. Lenny made a big fuss about how Sam shouldn't be so important around the bakery. That really made my blood boil. I mean, where do these no-majs get off?"

"Muggles can't seem to grasp exactly how small our little world is, or how much more we have in common with one another than is different." He nodded. "So, you'd trust this Sam with the recipes?"

Queenie nodded hesitantly. Newt grinned slightly.

"Then all we've got to do is make sure that Lenny doesn't realize what's going on. I think a self-reaffirming befuddlement charm ought to do the trick, even if Jacob doesn't arrive until spring."

"You mean—enchant them?" Queenie looked intrigued, then shook her head. "We couldn't—I mean, it'd be irresponsible to just leave them with no one to check on them."

"We could do it safely. I have some experience with this. It just means leaving a lot of contingent instructions, such as: 'take directions from Sam unless he's not here in which case follow normal procedure unless there's an emergency, in which case vacate the building and seek help.' And if you're still worried, at the very last of it, as a safety valve we'll have Lenny go to MACUSA and ask to speak to Abernathy. So we may come back facing a fine, but no one should possibly get hurt."

"I'm gonna fireproof this place so hard the whole block could get struck by lightning and nothing would happen." Queenie rolled up her sleeves, took out her wand, and began moving around the outside of the building making subtle gestures that were hidden by the morning bustle.

Taking that as approval of his plan, Newt went inside the bakery. The huge plate glass windows showed off the trays upon trays of pastries, breads, and confections. Newt had been inside the bakery before, and as ever he marveled at the way Jacob had rendered magical creatures into baked goods. Truly, creativity was a universal gift, and wizards would do well to remember that Muggles had their fair share of it—sometimes making better use of it because they couldn't rely on magical powers or enchanted tools.

Tina was seated behind the counter, behind the case of cakes, eating a huge babka bun. She had a little bit of icing smeared across her top lip, but by now Newt knew better than to draw attention to it. Jacob had flipped the sign after the last of the customers had left, and was speaking to his employees. Lenny resembled Jacob in stoutness, but unfortunately had none of Jacob's charisma and good cheer. The two kitchen boys, Adam and Ernest, were standing off to the side, looking uncertain. Newt took out his wand and cast a very mild confundus charm to prevent anyone making a scene.

Jacob stopped talking, noticing their vacant expressions. He turned to Newt. "You sure this is safe, buddy? I mean, isn't it a little weird, making them do stuff?"

Newt looked at him. "Well, I suppose it does limit their free will slightly, but it's only temporary and only where the bakery is concerned. Queenie said that they might not listen to your first choice of proxy. I will of course respect your wishes if you don't want me to."

Jacob ran a hand through his hair. "I guess if it's the safest way…" he said cautiously.

"You don't need to be doing any of that stuff on me," a low voice said from the kitchen.

"Ah, you must be Sam," said Newt.

A tall, broad-shouldered man emerged wearing the white shirt and apron of the others, but with a dish towel tucked into his apron ties. He was looking at Newt's wand with a raised eyebrow.

"What you got yourself mixed up in, Mister Kowalski?" he asked.

Newt looked between Jacob's confused expression and Sam's knowing one. It only took a moment to connect the dots.

"You're a squib!" he said. "What luck! That makes everything so much easier."

Newt rushed forward to introduce himself. Jacob's jaw was on the floor.

"Newt Scamander, magizooligist," he said, shaking Sam's large hand enthusiastically.

"Sam Williams," the big man said, "but I'm not so sure I qualify as a squib—it's my granny is the one in our family with the gifts. She came here from Barbados and met my Grandpa and settled down, then twenty years later come to find out there's all these rules. Wizards coming up to our place, insisting that she stop helping folks out with their troubles, asking for her papers and a wand permit."

"So you are a second generation squib with knowledge of the magical world. Fascinating! And MACUSA claims it's impossible for us to coexist in the city," said Newt. "Tell me, is your Granny still in the area?"

"Up on 103rd Street, just where she's always been."

"Excellent! Then, I'll tell you what we'll do. Mister Kowalski is going to be traveling with Miss Goldstein, her sister, and I to London. We may be gone for some time. He would prefer to leave you in charge of things here."

Sam looked to Jacob, a little warily. Jacob finally found his voice.

"Wow. So you must have suspected all along! But yeah, I need to go with Queenie, and I can't think of no one better to run this place while I'm gone than you, Sam."

Sam cast a concerned look at Lenny, whose unfocused gaze was on some bread braided into stars in the case.

"Yes, precisely," Newt said. "Jacob thought he might be troublesome, so I'm going to cast a simple suggestion triggered by a word or phrase. All you'll need to do is say it, and they should fall in line. If you have any trouble, you may write to us, I'll leave you an address. But if you have pressing difficulties, you can go to your Granny, and she'll be able to help you! I can't tell you how convenient this is."

Sam frowned. "I don't want to make no trouble for her."

Newt's brain was already racing ahead. They had booked the tickets before coming by the bakery, but only had a few hours left to secure the bakery and get back to the docks.

"Look, if there's really a problem, I'll give you a note in my own hand that you can send to MACUSA with a password, no magic required, and we'll deal with our own consequences when we return. But I can't imagine what could go wrong. These spells are very rudimentary and have worked for generations."

Sam still looked uncertain. A scrapping sound echoed through the space. Tina's stool dragged across the floor as she rose, her eyes unfocused again, disturbingly like the three men in the front of the shop.

"Where's Queenie?" she said. "Where's my sister?"

Jacob rushed to her side, reassuring her that Queenie would be with her in a moment. Newt hesitated, not wanting to further agitate her. He looked back to Sam.

"You've met Tina before?"

"I've met Mrs. Scamander before, yes," said Sam. Newt met his eyes for a moment, and found compassion there.

"Then you'll understand. She's been badly hurt. It's a magical injury—inside her head. I've got to take her to London for treatment. It's her best chance. We leave tonight. Can we count on you or shall we sort things out on our own?"

"I'll help you as best I can," said Sam. Newt smiled gratefully.

"Brilliant. Thank you. Really, it should work out perfectly. Jacob will show you where he keeps the recipes, and Queenie and I'll get this place fireproofed, floodproofed, thiefproofed and any other protection we can come up with in…" he glanced around until his eyes found the clock on the wall. "Two and one half hours! Excuse me please."

Newt rushed off to bring Queenie inside and the two of them got down to work. They raced the clock until they had done all they could. They bid goodbye to Sam, the assistants, and the unusually pleasant Lenny and headed for the docks.

The Royal Star Steamer crossing left at six that evening. This close to the winter solstice the sky had been completely dark before the four of them had even headed out from the customs office. Newt had one hand on his case, all too acutely aware of the fact that there were infinitely precious people and animals in his care. Newt hoped that he could easily get Tina settled in their berth. The last of his book advance was rapidly disappearing since he'd decided to be safe and book a private cabin so that they would be less conspicuous. If Tina could not be inside the case, then Queenie and Jacob might need to come up to sit with her while Newt went down to tend to the creatures. Usually he just booked third class and found an out-of-the-way corner of the luggage compartment to set up his case and spent the majority of his time working inside it.

This journey would be far different. They hadn't had the funds for four first class tickets, and while normally it would be third class for them all, it seemed important that Tina have some privacy in case she wasn't able to interact with the other passengers.

There were a few tense moments when Tina could not seem to attend the customs agent, but Newt finally managed to explain away her odd behavior and they boarded the ship. They had scarcely got settled in their cabin before Tina curled up on one of the beds and fell fast asleep. After checking on Jacob and Queenie, who were happily building their own little nest a little ways off from the place he'd made for Tina, Newt settled in to some reading before falling asleep himself.

The next morning, Newt was sitting on the bed across from Tina, scribbling in his journal about the effects of an experiment in growing some featherferns to feed to his fwoopers. Buying them from specialist sellers was breaking the budget, and he did have the space to grow them himself now. The trouble was, there were so many magical insects beasts and birds now that they ate the seeds right out of the soil before they could even get growing.

"So whatcha got in the case, mister?" Newt jumped off his bed, completely startled. Tina laughed, the same careless mirthful laugh she'd always had.

"Please call me Newt," he said for maybe the fortieth time in two days. He settled back on the narrow bed he'd been sitting on. His case lay on the floor between them. Tina stared at him. Newt felt like he was improving at keeping eye contact. He felt like she was offering a little more seemed to remember him from the past two days, even if she gave no indication that she remembered anything about their past together.

Newt hastened to answer her question.

"This case is a bit of a holding pen of sorts. I am a magizoologist—I study magical creatures and try to educate the public on how to care for them and make the case for preservation over removal or extermination whenever there is a problem."

"Holding pen? For what? Have you got winged horses in there? Or just like, some grindylows or somethin?" She looked very interested in the winged horses, and not so much by the grindylows.

Newt smiled. "I don't have any winged horses in the case at the moment I'm afraid. Since those are so useful for transport it's not very hard to find wizards who are willing to give them a home. I generally house creatures that are a little more…exotic."

"Like, dangerous?" Tina's brows rose, and despite the circumstances Newt felt charmed that he was getting to see a side of Tina as she might have been as a young girl. She was far more open to the possibility of dangerous creatures as an interesting prospect than she had been when they had first met.

"My creatures aren't dangerous—but that doesn't mean they wouldn't be fearsome under the right conditions. I study them so that I can keep them in a mutually beneficial arrangement until a habitat can be secured for them where they're safe from humans."

"Safe from humans? Shouldn't humans be the ones afraid of magical beasts?"

"That has been the traditional relationship, yes. But I'm trying to change that. I thought perhaps if we could educate the wizarding public about the wonders of these creatures, we could start to make protected places for them. They are just as deserving of a place in this world as anyone else."

The top of the case swung open, and Newt couldn't help but regret the end of his quiet talk with Tina. Queenie climbed out of the case carefully, as she was holding a small beaker containing a green liquid that was bubbling and smoking slightly. It smelled evil. In the other hand she was carrying a bucket and a towel.

"Good morning!" said Queenie. She looked a little strained. "I got Teenie's potion here. So, if you would just go down—Jacob was having a little trouble with your Nudu. He looked real hungry and wouldn't stop roaring and puffin up his—you know."

Newt hovered.

"I could stay, if you—" he began, looking at Tina.

"No, that's real kind of you, but the healer was real certain about this, and I've gotta be here in case it upsets Tina's stomach. You just go give us a half hour and we'll be fine."

Tina looked balefully at the potion. "I don't think I like this stuff, do I Queenie?"

Queenie attempted to be upbeat. "It's something that the healers said would really help. I sent an owl to see if you ought to still take it on the boat and they said yes, definitely, no matter what. So we gotta do what it takes to keep you doing your best Teenie."

Newt didn't want to be rude to Queenie, but he hovered by the case, waiting for some sign one way or another. Finally Tina accepted the beaker, wrinkling her nose.

"See ya later, mister," she said, waving with her free hand.

Newt gave up and stepped inside his case. Before shutting the lid, he popped back out.

"I hope your potion doesn't make you feel poorly, Miss Goldstein. If you're well enough later, perhaps you'd like to come down and see for yourself."

"Really? Can I?" Tina's enthusiasm was childish but endearing.

"Of course." He smiled at her faintly, and went down, setting to work for the morning.

Newt was doing his level best to pay attention to Jacob as he detailed the amazing (to him) way that Queenie had put together the second tiny house, the one that Jacob and Queenie were apparently sharing. In his case. This despite the presence of the place he'd made for Tina, now complete with bed. Tina would certainly have an earful for him about that when she was back to normal. She had drawn very clear lines as far as behavior and propriety before marriage went, and she expected her sister to follow them as dutifully as she had. Tina would not be pleased by the blind eye he'd turned to Queenie and Jacob's progressing relationship. Though if Tina were ever to return to herself, he would be so thrilled and relived that he'd happily listen to any number of lectures on his failings as a chaperone.

A rung creaked in the shed, heralding the sound of feet rapidly scampering down. The end of Jacob's story went unheard as Newt rose and went back up to the shed, opening the door just in time to come nose-to-forehead with Tina as she reached the floor. Queenie was nowhere to be seen, so perhaps she had decided to take a turn on deck.

"Hi," Tina said, and Newt wasn't even a little offended that she was trying to see over his shoulder out into the open space behind him. He stepped aside, scrutinizing her for signs of sickness, but there was nothing obvious. Maybe the sea air had cured her.

Tina stepped over the threshold of the shed with a small gasp. Casting his mind back, Newt was annoyed to find he couldn't recall exactly what Tina had done or said when she'd first seen inside his case. While they'd spent much of their time inside, caring for the creatures and talking enthusiastically about spellwork and potions and import-export tariffs on rare ingredients and how best to make the case for the preservation of magical beasts both in Great Britain and Stateside, before this moment Newt hadn't retained a memory of Tina's first reaction.

He decided that instead of regretting what was lost, it would be best to savor what was before him.

"Wowww," said Tina, holding onto the word as she walked further into what was now a fully functioning if modestly sized nature park. The shed was still the center of the raised paddocks, which radiated from this point like the spokes of a wheel. He needed to be able to reach each enclosure quickly in case whenever he was pressed for time, so most creatures had learned to expect food when he was centrally located.

The nudu roared, and Tina clapped her hands admiringly.

"It's so huge! And spiky, but it's fur still looks real soft."

"It is! Do you—do you remember him, at all?"

She shook her head, but looked at it intently, until her stare turned glassy. Newt, concerned, intervened and pulled Tina back into the present.

"This is a Nudu, or Nundu as it is sometimes known. It is considered one of the most dangerous creatures in all of creation. Its breath is poisonous, and can lay out a village with a magical disease."

Tina's gaze turned panicked, and she hastily backed away from the paddock. Newt cursed himself for his typically backwards delivery of information.

"No—no, there's no need to be concerned. This nudu had been terrorizing villages in Africa as a cub, and was badly injured by wizards there when I intervened and offered to take him away. He's now very tame. And the poisonous breath is a defense mechanism, only triggered when a nudu is under attack."

"How do I know he's not gonna suddenly feel attacked?" asked Tina with wide eyes.

Newt took her by the arm, and led her away toward some of his more pleasant-natured creatures. "Please, don't be frightened. There's a spell on him that would purify his breath if ever he were panicked, and there's a very strong enchantment on all the predators in here that keeps them safely in their own spaces. As long as you stay outside of the nudu's paddock, you cannot possibly be harmed by it. The same goes for all the creatures."

A billywig flitted through, catching Tina's eye.

"What is that?" she asked.

Newt smiled. "Not a moth." When Tina looked at him skeptically, he hastened on.

"A billywig, which unlike most other insects, people like to entice to sting them, as giddiness and levitation often result from billywig stings."

"Have you ever been stung?" Tina asked.

"Only very occasionally. I usually get on perfectly well with billywigs."

They walked past the graphorns, and stopped to check in on an injured hippogryph that Newt was transporting back to England for rehabilitation. The next paddock over, Jacob sat on a rocky outcropping, tossing out alfalfa pellets that never hit the ground.

"Hey Tina, you look good today!" he said. Tina frowned at him, as if trying to recall his name.

Newt tried to tactfully help her out. "Jacob is feeding the moon calves." He gestured to the furry creatures that crowded around the shorter man.

"These guys are my favorite," Jacob smiled. "I can't get over the way they get their food to hold still in the air so they can get it. It's so…delicate and magical and lazy all at once."

Tina smiled at him, but continued on. The lure of the niffler's lair was too strong for her to resist. Newt had to admit that it did outshine most things in his case, with the brilliant red-gold foliage of the tree cascading above the gold-lined lair. Newt regretfully looked at the gold inside. There was probably enough for him to buy a house. Unfortunately the niffler had stolen all of it, and if Newt were found trying to pawn the niffler's muggle treasures, more than eyebrows would be raised. Questions, uncomfortable questions, might be asked by parties to whom Newt really did not want to have to explain himself.

"It's amazing!" Tina smiled up at him. A fwooper swooped by, chasing after another billywig.

"The fwooper is another creature that I had to enchant in order to keep in here," Newt said, nodding at it. "This one is completely silent, but the fwooper's song has been known to induce insanity in those who've had prolonged exposure to it."

Tina smirked at him.

"You sure you've done it right? You've gotta be pretty crazy to have all this stuff shut up in here together."

Newt raised an eyebrow and put a hand on his hip in mock indignation. "I'll have you know I've been offered the Care of Magical Creatures position at the most prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Hmph, calling me crazy." He smiled at her.

Tina looked at him. "Are you a teacher then?" she asked.

Newt paused. "No. I didn't accept the post."

"Why not? You seem pretty into the magical creatures." She spread her arms to indicate all the life burgeoning around them.

Newt retreated a step, looking over at where the bowtruckles were happily scarfing a nest of woodlice that had been delivered to them earlier. His eyes slid to Tina, then back to the sticklike creatures.

"Hogwarts is in Scotland, and I had something that I needed to do in America."

Tina moved closer, and Newt hoped she couldn't see the blush that he felt crawling up his neck.

"And what was that?" she asked.

Newt looked at her, not quite sure he should be talking about this with someone who might only possess the memories of a teenager. But in her eyes he caught a familiar teasing glance that was certainly at least as mature as he'd ever gotten, and he continued.

"I had to bring a girl a book," he said, hoping against hope that this would be it, and Tina would remember, and all the barriers would come tumbling down.

Instead she shook her head, rolling her eyes. "That seems like a pretty stupid reason to turn down your dream job. What, was it too thick to send by owl?"

She moved past Newt, toward the little wooden house he'd made for her.

"This is cute, is it where Queenie's staying?" she asked.

Newt didn't answer, trying to collect himself. He swallowed bitter disappointment. Still, he couldn't lose all the ground he'd covered with Tina this morning just because he'd foolishly raised his hopes too high. Tina hadn't done a thing, but the hurt was real, and burned in his stomach.

A great snort came from behind the house. Tina looked up from where she'd been trying out the swing on the tiny porch of the house. The snort was followed by a loud bellow. Tina scampered toward him.

"What on earth is that?"

Together the two of them rounded the cottage, to where the erumpent was wedged at the very edge of her paddock. When they came into view, she let out another trumpeting bellow. Newt frowned.

"It's my erumpent, but I can't imagine why she's carrying on like this. She's usually quite sweet-natured."

Newt stepped right up into the paddock to get a better look at the creature. When the noise stopped and the erumpent seemed to have calmed, Tina took a step forward. Immediately the erumpent's head whipped around, and she let out a huge snort. She lowered her head and bellowed again.

Newt hopped down from the edge of the paddock and backed toward Tina, a look of complete confusion on his face.

"She's never been like this. Erumpents can occasionally be hard to handle when in heat, but that's not what's going on here. What could possibly—?" he cut off when he noticed the base of the erumpent's horn start to glow. He whipped out his wand from where he'd wedged it between his suspenders and his shirt.

"Jacob!" he called. "Please take Tina out of the case, and send Queenie down here as soon as you can."

He looked at Tina. Her eyes were wide. "Don't worry, nothing will hurt you. I just need to learn what's troubling her."

The erumpent, who was having none of his soothing tone of voice, snorted. Her horn was now fully aglow. She lowered her head again.

"GO!" Newt yelled, and Tina obeyed, turning and running for the shed.


	4. Chapter 4

The remainder of the crossing was tense. Newt spent most of his time in his case, caring for his animals and pondering why Ethel the erumpent was so hostile toward Tina. He'd wondered if she had merely been having an off day, but upon further research he found that Tina was definitely the trigger. Queenie had joined him by the enclosure, and nothing about her had bothered Ethel. Jacob was also in the clear. Rather than risking Tina visiting, Newt had asked her for her scarf, and as soon as he'd brought it near to Ethel, she had once again become agitated, as close to raging as Newt had ever seen her.

So Tina had been consigned to the cabin, only leaving when Queenie took her to get some air on deck. Newt arranged for them to take meals in the cabin, telling the steward that his wife was ill. He had needed to reinforce that a little with a quick charm to prevent curiosity, but it had kept them both isolated from their fellow passengers.

Truth be told, Newt had been avoiding Tina. He spent long hours letting Queenie and Jacob sit in the large cabin with Tina while he went over his notes on the plant he'd found. The locals called it mbwo, a word for witchcraft, something that they understood as evil. This had troubled him. Witches and wizards were of course used to the way that muggles treated them and the possibility of magic, but it was especially unpleasant to be synonymous with evil.

Newt pored over everything he had that might give him insight into the plant and how to best approach its use. His old herbology textbooks were of little help, but in one of his field journals he had sketched the plant whilst waiting to sight swooping evil itself. That original drawing was what had sent him to Equatorial Guinea after Tina's attack. The five-spiked leaved were jagged like most others of its family, but it had a dark hue, almost black at the edges while the green of the chlorophyll was evident along the veins. The plant was small, but its strong, almost smoky scent set it apart from the exotic but still non-magical plants that surrounded it.

He had wondered then, a year before he'd even met Tina, if this were a magical species as yet unclassified. Upon his return he'd learned that only the local tribes used it. Because magical and nonmagical people were not always separated in Africa as in some other places, it was especially difficult to know its uses. No one Newt had met near swooping evil's nesting grounds was a wizard, but the feats that they attributed to their late shamanic healer sounded suspiciously typical of magical healers who went amongst Muggles to do good works. It was only relatively recently in history that those with magical talents were shunned by the populace to the extent that they were unwilling to take advantage of the talents and especially healing powers of witches and wizards among them.

Antiquity was full of tales of oracles, priests, and even "gods" who were most likely talented witches and wizards living their lives entwined with Muggle politics. Most of the wizarding world today liked to believe they were now completely set apart, but there were still places where the line was, if not blurred, at least perforated.

During the remaining four days of the crossing, Tina had become more withdrawn. Her suspicions and curiosity had faded, and Newt could tell that Queenie was both disappointed and concerned at the change. Newt worried that the erumpent incident and the appearance of peril had retriggered some facet of the memory spell. She no longer seemed afraid of him when he appeared in her cabin, but Newt wasn't certain that she even remembered his name.

It was with great relief that Newt herded a slightly vacant Tina off the ship and through customs. The docks were crowded and dirty, with odd sounds and smells that still failed to rouse Tina from her daze. Newt wanted to get her to the hospital as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he still had to pass through the Ministry's own check point.

Lightly supporting Tina under her left arm, he stepped off to the side of the bustling terminal. A tap of the wand against a section of wall behind a permanent shelter of crates revealed the Port of London Customs Office for Magical Affairs. The office was an extremely cramped single room, lined with shelves housing spinning devices enchanted to sound an alarm if certain enchantments or charms were detected. Newt cast a slightly worried glance down at the case in his hand. The enchantments were supposed to be undetectable and had served him well during his last visit to this office, but who knew when the Ministry would finally get around to an upgrade.

Tillie Armentrout was behind the desk reading a paperback detective novel with reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, making her already rather pointy face look quite pinched indeed. The mustachioed detective on the cover of the book peered up at him with a magnifying glass pressed to one eye. Though Tillie was a few years older than Newt, they'd been at school together and even then she'd had a reputation as an incurable gossip. Newt groaned internally at his bad luck and readjusted his grip on Tina's arm to keep her close to him and away from the detection equipment, but she pulled free with a glare, and crouched to look at one particularly shiny spinner by the door.

"Hullo, Tillie," Newt said. He hoped to get in and out immediately, and would have skipped the whole thing except that President Picquery had made him promise to do it all by the book. As uncomfortable as it was parading his personal problems before Tillie, it would not do to risk an international incident, especially if it would jeopardize the prospect of Tina getting treatment at St. Mungo's.

Tillie looked up at him, a smile stretching her narrow mouth to uncomfortable widths. "Why if it isn't Newt Scamander, back again."

She whipped her reading glasses off her nose hastily and pulled a bespelled quill from her drawer. It set to drawing up a customs declaration form. Her eye first came to rest on his case.

"Have you got something to declare today? I've heard there's far more in there than your field notes, you know," Tillie said.

"Not today, Tillie, no."

"Merlin, but they let you get away with a lot. I suppose it helps to have family in such high places," she sniffed. Newt hunched uncomfortably and took the packet of papers from inside his coat. He extracted his passport, Tina's passport, as well as her travel visa, signed and stamped by the appropriate officers of the Crown.

Tillie took them just as Tina straightened up from where she'd been inspecting the glinting silver enchantment detectors.

"And who is this?"

Before Newt could answer, Tillie had flipped Tina's passport open and was reading it as voraciously as if it were the gossip column of the Daily Prophet.

"Porpentina…Scamander? Oh ho ho, you have been busy over in the States, haven't you? Mabel from the Intercontinental Relations department was trying to tell me all your travel was about Grindelwald, but if so, why would they be sending you? No, this makes far more sense."

She peered at Tina eagerly.

"So, taking the little Missus home to meet Mummy and Daddy then?"

Newt frowned. This was getting out of control. He looked nervously at Tina who had her arms crossed over her chest. He hoped Tillie wouldn't succeed in upseting Tina.

"If you'd please turn your attention to the travel visa, you'll see that Mrs. Scamander is an injured auror seeking medical attention at St. Mungo's. I have papers signed by President Picquery of MACUSA to that effect if you need to see them?"

"What's the matter with her?" Tillie asked, her eyes raking Tina for any sign of illness. Tina frowned, her eyes regaining some of their usual clarity.

"That's none of your business, lady," she snapped.

Tillie looked offended, but Newt just shrugged half-apologetically. Mercifully, the quill had finished its work, and their copy floated through the air. Newt snatched it and took back their other documentation while Tillie was staring.

Newt turned and led Tina back outside, but not before Tillie audibly muttered, "Oh to be a fly on the wall of your mother's drawing room!"

They were here to seek medical attention, period. There was no need to get ahead of themselves. Newt shuddered, but when Tina, still affronted, barked, "What?" he could only smile, pleased that she was more present than he'd seen her that day in his case. He took her hand, apparating them to a nearby rooftop to let Queenie and Jacob out of the case.

-o-o-o-

"Are you sure this is the place?" Jacob stared doubtfully at the mannequins in the window of the neglected department store. They were dressed in the fashions of twenty years prior, trailing skirts on the ladies and a frock coat on the man.

"Lotsa magical buildings have to look unpleasant to no-majs," Queenie answered. "Keeps them from getting too curious."

Jacob nodded doubtfully.

Newt was preoccupied getting Tina up to the fourth floor in time for their ten o'clock appointment. After letting Jacob and Queenie out of the case there had been just enough time to stop off for a quick breakfast of bread and tea at a shop just across from St. Mungo's though now they were cutting it close for time. As they'd eaten, Tina's curiosity about her new surroundings had faded, and she had become unresponsive to questions. Newt tried to keep an even keel, but inside he was alternating waves of hope and despair. The prospect of a definite pronouncement one way or another would change so much…but whether it was for the better or the worse was out of their hands.

Inside his pockets were the samples of the mbwo plant that he'd brought back from Guinea. In his eagerness he'd dried copious amounts, made an alcohol tincture and even vaporized some into a spray with spring water and witch hazel, though he knew the potions master would want to oversee any preparations himself. Newt had decided not to mention the living specimen that he had placed inside the enclosure for Swooping Evil in his case. The spread of unknown magical plants was strictly forbidden, and if Tillie from customs had had any inkling of just what he was carrying she could have had him arrested on the spot.

Still, Newt had wanted to cover all of his bases. Perhaps the potions master would be someone that he could trust with that information, in which case they could work together to develop a formula to help Tina.

"Newt Scamander and friends here to escort Porpentina Scamander to her ten o'clock appointment," he said politely. The glass of the display window vanished, and the dummy in the frock coat gestured for them to enter.

They stepped up and into the building, Jacob gaping at the seamless transition from shop window to hospital admitting lounge. The room was large and only moderately busy. The nurses at the reception desk looked very smart in their white caps, while here and there a healer consulted with a patient or family member as they sat in the royal blue leather chairs that filled the center of the room in neat lines. Newt settled Tina with Queenie and Jacob in a vacant row of chairs and fumbled in his coat for the letter that he'd had with Tina's appointment information.

"Excuse me," he began.

The receptionist looked up at him, sizing him up professionally. "Nothing wrong with you then," she said firmly. "Where's the patient?"

"It—it's my wife you see," said Newt, suddenly unsure of himself. Should he even be there, pretending to speak for Tina? But if he didn't, Queenie would have to, and he was the one who'd arranged the appointment, so it was his duty to see it through, no matter how uncomfortable he felt. He produced the letter with the appointment time and held it out to the receptionist.

"An appointment with Professor Slughorn, is it?" Her expression had turned slightly sour. "But he doesn't work here any longer, now does he? So how can you have an appointment here with a former employee?"

Newt was taken aback. He glanced nervously at the ornate clock on the wall which read five minutes until ten.

"But he clearly says right here that I was to bring my wife to St. Mungo's for a ten o'clock appointment for a consultation. Tina—she can't be transported to Hogwart's. It—it's spell damage."

"Spell damage?" The receptionist raised an eyebrow and looked past Newt to where Tina was staring past the magazines that her sister was trying to interest her in. "And you want the Hogwart's potions master? You ought to have made an appointment with the healers on the fourth floor. They'll need to do an assessment."

"No—don't you see, we already went through all this in New York. After the attack, she was seen by the best healers MACUSA could come up with. This is our last hope."

Newt desperately looked over his shoulder at the clock. It showed two minutes past ten.

"What's all this about, Ivy?" asked a portly wizard in healer's robes who had materialized behind the desk.

"Ah, Terrence, you'll be able to tell the young man. He says his wife has a ten o'clock for spell damage with Horace Slughorn of all people!"

The man's friendly expression turned serious.

"Then what is he waiting around down here for? Spell Damage is fourth floor, and Horace should be getting out of his meeting with the Director presently. Honestly Ivy, I would have thought you'd have had a better idea of the daily schedule. We're lucky that this case brought Horace down from Hogwarts or we might have had to wait months for him to train the new apothecary." He turned away from the affronted receptionist who was patting her cap and huffing.

"I'll take you up myself," said the healer, turning briskly on his heel. "Come along."

Newt gestured rapidly and Queenie shot up out of her chair, dragging Tina and Jacob along with her. They ascended the wide white stair in a quiet line, the healer having given up at making small talk upon seeing Tina's vacant expression. The walk up to the fourth floor had left Jacob and even Queenie a little winded, but Tina and Newt and the healer trudged on in silence. They came to a long hall filled with unmarked doors. One on the left hand side was open, and they were led inside.

"You can wait for Professor Slughorn here," said the healer. He had been looking at Tina curiously, but he shrugged and went out.

The room was for medical examinations and as such was far too small to comfortably fit four adults. Newt settled Tina on the table, which covered itself in the requisite fresh cotton sheet as she approached.

"There, nice and easy," Queenie soothed, taking off Tina's black cloche hat for her and smoothing back her wavy hair that had been pinned at the nape of her neck. When Tina was not lucid enough to do such things for herself, it had fallen to her sister to provide personal care. This pained Newt, since he knew it was difficult for Queenie, but he was also relieved not to have to do it himself if it might be against Tina's wishes.

Queenie hovered beside the bed, gesturing for Newt and Jacob to take the seats. Newt took the chair because it was closest to the table where Tina was perched, staring glassily around the room. This left Jacob to perch on the stool which was most likely meant for the healer.

"You sure we should all be in here?" Jacob asked, uneasily. "I don't wanna intrude or nothing…"

"This is a consult, and since Tina is not competent to make decisions for her care, I am legally responsible for doing so," Newt said. "But Queenie should also have a full say in what she thinks we should do. If any examination is required I'd imagine the healers will let us know."

"Whatdya mean I'm 'not competent'?"

Newt had been staring at the clock on the wall, rapidly advancing on 10:20, and so was quite startled to hear this abrasive question.

"Tina!" Queenie looked at her sister, whose disgruntled but aware gaze was trained on Newt. "Teen are you remembering something? Do you know where we are?"

Tina looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"I'd guess we're at the doctor's, right? There's plenty of white, I'm on a table, and that guy's on a doctor's stool. He doesn't look much like a doctor though." She nodded toward Jacob.

"But do you remember why we're here now, Teenie?" Queenie pressed.

Tina's brow furrowed. She pointed her finger at Newt.

"That guy wanted me to go to England. His case has a bunch of dangerous creatures, and some lady said he's taking me to meet his mother. But that's not right, is it? Because we're here. At the hospital."

Queenie's eyebrows were raised. She turned to Newt, and at her searching look he again clamped down on his thoughts. Occlumency seemed to come to him easier in moments of desperation.

"Your mother?" Queenie asked. Jacob looked nervously between Tina, Queenie and Newt. "What on earth is she talking about? I thought you didn't—"

Newt was saved from having to answer. The door opened, and a dapper little man wearing bright green robes and a top hat entered the room. He immediately glanced around and swept the hat from his head, revealing fashionably oiled brown hair slicked back on his head. He wore several rings of varying size on each hand, some set with precious gems with magical properties.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said with a smile that indicated that he was well aware that he was. "But I believe you are my ten o'clock consult. My name is Horace Slughorn, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Horace Slughorn eased into the cramped room and with a pointed look had Jacob scrambling off the stool and pressing himself against the wall between Queenie and a large bare-rooted floating fern whose fronds were wafting in the breeze. An Aereospore of some kind, Newt registered. It cleaned the air and required very little light. Aereospores of some type might be beneficial to have in his case, especially in the nudu enclosure, as a redundancy in case of emergency.

The little wizard cleared his throat and Newt's attention snapped back to the present. Slughorn looked around the little room, assessing his audience, and began to speak once more.

"I am here as a special request to Mr. Scamander," he said, and paused for Newt to indicate that it was he and not Jacob who had written. As soon as Newt nodded, Slughorn continued.

"Pleased to meet you. Odd really, that we've never met. Perhaps you heard of me from your brother? No? In any case, I've recently left my post as Master Apothecary for St. Mungo's, but your letter was intriguing enough to warrant a consult. The situation with your wife is pitiable, of course, and as a member of such an esteemed wizarding family Mrs. Scamander would of course have access to all the best treatments available from spell damage specialists who have experience with botched memory charms. In the ordinary way I would have left things to the excellent staff here to mix up whatever potions the healers prescribed. But in your letter, you mentioned a potential ingredient, which you believe to be a new discovery in the vaunted history of potions lore.

"You hope that it can be used to concoct a potion to restore you wife's lost memories, but I must warn you that there is no guarantee that the herb that you have found will be useful for such a specific purpose. When new materials are integrated into the Potions Canon, there is a long process of exploration that must take place."

Newt managed to cut in.

"I understand that is the usual procedure, but the plant has in fact been used in local tribal medicine for a similar purpose. I would like your word that this application will be the first explored, and that as soon as Tina can be treated safely, you'll work with her toward recovery."

"So you do indeed have it in your possession?"

Newt slid his hand into his pocket and retrieved a glass jar containing the dried mbwo. For a moment he thought Slughorn would lunge forward and grab it from his hand.

Slughorn stared hard at the black-green leaf, then looked around at the others in the room.

"Pardon me for jumping into business so quickly. Please forgive my rudeness. If you would—"

"This is my sister-in-law." Newt began the introductions.

"Queenie Kowalski," Queenie cut in. Newt's shocked expression was nothing to the choked noise that Jacob hurried to turn into a coughing fit.

"And this is my husband Jacob," she finished primly.

Slughorn smiled and nodded.

"Then this lovely lady must be Porpentina Scamander," he said to Tina, who was looking awake but extremely uneasy.

"I guess so," she said, wrinkling her nose slightly. Slughorn's eyebrows rose, and he chuckled a little.

"I can see why your husband is so eager to restore your memory!" he said. "But you can't have been married long—I hadn't heard a word of it at this year's Ministry Summer Solstice Banquet."

"For three months only," said Newt.

"And you feel the loss of that time together so keenly as to travel halfway round the world to find a cure for a memory spell gone wrong. Young love! You wouldn't find it more romantic just to start over?"

Newt gritted his teeth.

"Tina has been an Auror for MACUSA for five years now. She was injured while on the trail of Gellert Grindelwald. You must be aware of the havoc he has been wreaking across the globe."

Newt put the mbwo back in his pocket and pulled the sheaf of papers from MACUSA from inside his coat.

"These are papers from President Picquery that request help from the Ministry in retrieving Tina's lost memories."

Slughorn's eyes gleamed, and Newt got the unpleasant feeling that he had been successfully baited. Taking the papers, Slughorn eagerly leafed through them.

"So this is a matter of international security. As you most likely know, I have been able to do a few small services for the Ministry in the past. I hope that when you make your full report to the Minister of Magic, you won't neglect to tell him how cooperative I've been in your efforts. At the same time, though, it might be unfair to raise hopes. It would be better to leave out the existence of that herb in your pocket until we've had the chance to work with it."

"Why would I do that?"

Slughorn looked at him pityingly. "Once the Ministry's Special Division for Magical Flora gets ahold of a specimen like that it'll require years of testing before they'll authorize its use. If you want to begin treatment before you are both middle-aged, it would be best to conduct experimental trials unofficially."

Newt's brow furrowed. "But then how will I justify coming here and seeking your help?"

"Lucky for you, St. Mungo's has a renowned memory specialist just back from sabbatical who can take official charge of Mrs. Scamander's case. She will be happy to have me on as a consult. Then we can see about bringing your wife back up to speed," he finished with a wink at Tina, who still looked less than impressed.

Queenie cut in.

"It's not just that we need Tina to remember a certain period of time here. There's not one blank spot. Tina's whole foundation is shifting. She goes in and out of awareness. Her training is sometimes with her, but other times she's helpless. One day she's here and listening, the next she can't even remember her own name."

Queenie dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and Jacob placed his hand on her arm supportively.

"Hmm," Slughorn rose and approached the table where Tina perched. She looked at him nervously. He snapped his fingers in front of her eyes repeatedly, sending up different color sparks each time.

"Her vision seems to be unimpaired," he muttered. He continued in a different pattern, mumbling to himself.

"Ah, now she's losing focus." He sounded pleased, but Newt saw Tina's glassy eyes and spoke angrily.

"What are you doing? She was lucid just a moment ago!"

Slughorn smiled at him.

"Do not fear, Mr. Scamander. There's a method to the madness here. A repeating pattern lulls her back to semi-consciousness, but she is clearly very present emotionally and tuned in to subjects that cause her discomfort."

He snapped again. "I wonder, Mrs. Scamander, what your mother-in-law will have to say about your decidedly modern mode of dress. Miss Salsify was once seen out in trousers and no one saw hide nor hair of her for three months afterward!"

Newt gulped.

"Who's Salsify?" Tina's brows were furrowed, but she looked inquisitively around at all of them. She rubbed her hands over her loose but fashionable dove-gray trousers. "Do I know her?"

Sulghorn turned to Newt, oozing self-satisfaction. "You see? Back to the present moment, no harm done."

He headed to the door. "A healer will be in to do an assessment and I'll return after I've had the chance to confer with her. However, in the meantime, if you provide me with a sample, I will be able to begin my own work."

He looked expectantly at Newt. Newt looked at Queenie, hoping loudly that she would be able to tell him whether Slughorn was being honest in his offer of help. Queenie shrugged and made a face. Newt wondered if it was just the accent that was tripping her up.

He flicked his wand, summoning a single mbwo leaf, the smallest complete one he had, wrapped in a paper which was a copy of his botanical notes on the plant. It drifted over and Slughorn plucked it triumphantly from the air.

"I look forward to working with you, Mr. Scamander, Mrs. Scamander," he said, his hat returning to his head as he exited the room. "Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Kowalski."

And with that they were alone once more.

"Who's Salsify?" Tina repeated impatiently.

Newt hauled his case onto his lap and slumped forward, allowing his forehead to fall onto the brown leather.

"My little sister," came his muffled reply. "I did tell you about her, you know," he added defensively.

Tina snorted. "Like I would know if you're telling the truth. I don't get any of this."

Queenie cut in. "I didn't know you had a little sister," she said. Newt glanced up at her hurt expression and hurried to explain.

"I know I haven't talked much about my family. It—well, to be perfectly honest it was much easier not to. We haven't always got on very well, especially once I was expelled from school. Things were slightly better after the war, but recently there have been some difficulties…"

"Wait, so you've got an older brother, a younger sister, and that Slug guy mentioned your mother. Is that everybody?" Once more, Jacob's cautiousness around the wizarding world was serving him well.

"My father is also at home, but no other siblings. I have quite a few elderly aunts and some cousins as well. My uncle works at the Ministry of Magic as an Auror. He's the one who got me the job, well, after I was tossed out of school. I can't really imagine anyone else will be relevant."

"And they live here?" Jacob persisted.

"Not here, here," Newt answered vaguely. He changed the subject.

"But more importantly, do you think Slughorn is trustworthy? I couldn't understand your expression, Queenie."

Queenie frowned. "I couldn't get it all. He was thinking very fast, and with that accent it wasn't easy to understand. But he sure knows a lot of people. He had half a dozen people he wanted to talk to about the plant, and at least twice that many he was thinking he needed to hide it from. He wants to take credit for the discovery of your plant."

Newt nodded. "Well, that's helpful to know. Let him take all the credit, so long as he can be persuaded to develop a potion to help Tina before going public."

"You really don't mind, do you?" Queenie smiled. Newt shrugged, going a bit red that she seemed to have picked up on his last thought: that he'd happily give all the glory in the world to Slughorn if it meant returning Tina to herself.

A brisk knock sounded at the door. They all looked up, but the door was pulled open before anyone could move. A tall witch in white healer's robes entered the room, wand in one hand, medical file in the other. She had honey blond hair and a stern expression that contrasted with her youthful face. Newt wondered if she was an apprentice.

"Good day. Professor Slughorn asked me to prepare a report on a Porpentina Scamander?"

Queenie indicated the table where Tina was sitting. The witch stepped up and addressed Tina, holding out her hand to shake.

"My name is Honoria Lockhart. I'm a specialist here at St. Mungo's in mental spell damage."

"Tina Goldstein…Scamander, apparently," said Tina. She shook hands, and the others breathed a collective sigh of relief that this introduction was going relatively well.

Healer Lockhart looked around. "I understand the patient has been incapacitated with a blunted memory charm. Who is her legal proxy?"

Newt rose and shook her hand.

"Newt Scamander. Tina is my wife. However, my sister-in-law and her—husband," Newt tripped over this lie, scolding himself for not having confronted Queenie with it the moment the door had shut behind Slughorn, "have both traveled with us from America and are very invested in Tina's care."

"Ah. Well, I will need a moment with the patient for an examination." She spoke briskly.

"Oh—er, is that…I mean to say, perhaps you will need to be acquainted with the facts of her injury first?"

"Not at all. Plenty of time for all that later. The initial examination should be conducted with eyes unclouded by the pronouncements of others."

Healer Lockhart turned to Tina.

"Are you comfortable without a companion or would you prefer to have your sister or your husband remain?"

Queenie looked ready to insist on staying, but Tina said clearly, "C'mon Queenie, I'll be fine by myself. It's only a few medispells, right?"

Healer Lockhart nodded. "Since you're unable to provide a complete oral patient history, it may take a little longer, but it's better to get the facts up front anyway, especially where spell damage is concerned."

She opened the door and before they knew it, Newt, Queenie, and Jacob were turned out in the hall, awkwardly milling about. Newt was certain that there was absolutely no way that one could hear through these doors, but he still couldn't bring himself to step away from the doorframe, just in case.

"You're right, Newt. I can't tell a thing that's going on in there from out here. It's real heavily enchanted," Queenie said.

Newt rested his forehead on the wall beside the doorframe and tried to collect himself while simultaneously hiding his thoughts from Queenie. He couldn't let all these mentions of his family upset him. He was here because he believed it best for Tina, and once they'd heard what the healer had to say, they could come up with a plan for how to best support her as they worked toward her recovery.

"Uh, Queenie?" Jacob asked quietly from a little ways down the hall. "Why did you say that? Why'd you say we're married?"

Jacob's voice was tremulous. Newt squirmed and tried not to listen.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry for springing it on you. But there's no law against marrying no-majs here, and well, things'll be a lot smoother if people think we already—"

"Couldn't you have waited long enough for us to actually get married?"

Queenie sniffled.

"I didn't want to wait another second!" And she dove forward to embrace Jacob. "You're a little angry, huh? But you're right. We'll get married. It'll be okay."

Newt awkwardly shifted away from the emotional scene taking place beside him. While he was happy for his friends, getting married in England might not be as simple as they were envisioning, especially not since Queenie had announced that they already were. The wizarding community was annoyingly tight-knit, and it could reflect very badly on Tina as an outsider if Queenie's lie was found out. Judging a family on one member's poor behavior wasn't fair, but it was the sort of thing that had followed Newt around his entire life, and he was old enough to have given up trying to pretend it didn't happen. How on earth was he going to both keep up the pretense that they were already married and help them to get the necessary licenses? He'd spent the past several years running away from most of his connections in England, so it wasn't as if anyone would be eager to help him.

The door opened once more.

"Mr. Scamander, please step back inside."

"That was quick!" said Queenie, moving back to the door.

Healer Lockhart blocked the doorway.

"Just Mr. Scamander, please," she said.

Newt shrugged at Queenie, handed his case to her, and reentered the examination room. Tina was staring at him with huge, terrified eyes from the examination table. He tried for a reassuring smile, but Tina sniffed and hid her face in her hands. Newt took a step toward her, but she shrank back on the table.

Honoria Lockhart closed the door.

"Please sit down, Mr. Scamander," she said, seating herself on the stool. A quill fluttered at her shoulder, hovering over an open medical file.

"What—what's wrong?" Newt asked. "Please tell me—did you discover something about Tina's injury? Is it…" he swallowed past the lump of fear that had returned to his throat. "Is it hopeless?"

Healer Lockhart's severe expression softened at his distress.

'Do sit down."

He did.

"I haven't finished assessing her for memory retrieval, but I will tell you that memory loss is never truly hopeless. We have this notion of destroying memories—as if we witches and wizards have the power to do such a thing. Instead, my research shows that a memory charm is only an effective mental manipulation which convinces the victim's mind to hide certain information from itself by closing off the path for retrieval. This isn't to say memory charms don't accomplish their purpose. They can be quite effective, and information certainly can remain inaccessible forever, but the mind is a miraculous thing, and just because one pathway becomes disconnected does not mean that another cannot open."

She shook her head, bringing herself back to the present.

"But that is not actually relevant to what I called you back in for. I had only got so far as a basic physical examination before something came to my attention that must be addressed immediately. Normally this would be for your wife to discuss with you at her discretion, but because of her status as incapacitated I am legally obligated to bring any complicating factors to your attention at once."

Healer Lockhart turned to where Tina had her knees drawn up on the table.

"Mrs. Scamander, would you prefer to say yourself?"

Tina gave a strangled yelp, and vehemently shook her head. Healer Lockhart frowned and turned to Newt.

"'Complicating factor'," he managed. "What do you mean? Has one of her injuries—"

Healer Lockhart waved her hand dismissively.

"Not to put too fine a point on it: Mrs. Scamander is pregnant. While I have no reason to think that she is at heightened risk because of her pregnancy, it may be a barrier to certain treatments."

Newt blinked, his eyes wide. He suspected that there were many ways one could respond to this, but his mind had gone completely, blessedly blank. He looked right and left. He'd left his case in the hall with Queenie. There was no escape, so he tipped his head back against the wall, closed his eyes, and tried very hard to locate some measure of composure.

 _A/N: This posting was prompted by VlightPhase. Thank you for your kind review! I am so happy whenever I get to hear readers' response to my stories!_


	5. Chapter 5

Honoria Lockhart continued on as if reality had not just imploded and rapidly rearranged itself into a surreal reimagining of itself.

"She's eleven and a half weeks on," she said seriously. "What was the date of her attack?"

Tina sobbed on the table. Newt blinked rapidly and tried to make sense of what he was being asked. It clicked, and he sighed, shaking his head.

"No. No, that was only two months ago. So if you're certain about how far gone—"

"Quite certain," Honoria Lockhart said with a relieved smile.

"The healers at MACUSA assured us that there was only the blunt force trauma and a memory wipe. There was no evidence of further damage." Newt felt the relief wash through him as well. At least that was one thing they did not have to worry about.

"It's times like this that make me want to start reading the case files first, objective impressions be damned. I apologize," Lockhart said.

"Not at all, it's an unusual case," Newt said.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" screamed Tina. "I can't understand any of this stuff!"

Newt and Healer Lockhart turned to the table. Newt glanced at Tina and swallowed. His throat had gone dry again. Healer Lockhart took pity on him.

"I didn't have the date of your attack, Mrs. Scamander, so I was concerned—" she cut off and hesitated. Newt hoped she wouldn't alarm Tina with possibilities that had not occurred. "I wanted to be certain that conception had occurred before your attack."

Somehow the word conception, which Newt regularly discussed in a casual tone with rare animal breeders, had made his cheeks go beetroot.

Healer Lockhart glanced at him and had to look away to hide her amused smile.

"And it had?" Tina was just barely able to get this question out from behind the hands she had clapped over her face.

" And it most definitely had. You have nothing to worry about on that count."

Newt leaned forward, forcing himself to be calm, and to ignore the discomfort that came from discussing such intensely personal matters with another person in the room.

"We were married, Tina, on September the 8th. And then there were 24 days between that day and the day of your injury. You were beaten and had your memory forcefully and inexpertly wiped, but mercifully I found you in time for your bodily wounds to be healed."

He frowned and turned back to the healer.

"So Tina would have been in the very early stages of pregnancy," Newt managed. "Can you be certain that nothing went wrong? Is—is the—is everything alright?"

"I have seen nothing to indicate otherwise. However, I think it would be best for you both to speak with a midwife immediately. I know of an excellent witch who is highly sought after. Usually it would take weeks to get an initial meeting with her. She does supervise extremely complex cases here at St. Mungo's on occaasion though, so let me see if I can't interest her enough to swing by and see you."

Healer Lockhart turned to where Tina was still cowering on the table.

"Tina," she said, her voice returned to its usual business-like cadence. "I will leave for a few moments to contact the midwife. Her name is Jane Moon-Lanfear, and she'll set you to rights immediately. My sister-in-law, the flightiest witch you'd ever see, just had a baby with Jane. Everything went beautifully. It's the calmest I'd ever seen Kate, really.

"So take a moment to confer with your husband. I know you don't remember him very well, but we are planning to do everything possible to stabilize your mind so that you can maintain new pathways to your memories. It won't help you to assume that you'll forget the present moment. Instead, act as if the present will be with you forever. Talk to Mr. Scamander. It will help."

She nodded and walked out.

There was a long pause. Newt was unsure whether to break it or to wait for Tina. His thoughts traveled to the time he'd been in Egypt and had come across an injured sphinx. The creature hadn't been capable of human speech at first, instead having to resort to yowls and growls to make herself understood. She had been hurt and afraid, yes, but also embarrassed at her circumstances. Sphinxes were as well known for their intelligence as their ferocity, so it made sense that frustration at being a slave to her lesser nature would bother her. Newt remembered that he had been able to remain very calm, and he had made a point to communicate verbally with the sphinx as if she had been a particularly scholarly human, but he had used the firm and confident body language that he would have used to approach a lion or a nudu.

He looked up at Tina, who had moved her hands down over her mouth so that she could more easily stare at him. Newt forced himself to straighten his posture. He took a deep breath, and smiled sadly at Tina.

"This isn't how you'd envisioned this going, even before your attack. There was a time, a few weeks before we were married, when we passed a shop display of baby things on a street corner. I hadn't even noticed it, but I did notice that something had agitated you. Your cheeks were pink, and at first I thought it was the wind, but when I asked you about it you squirmed and blurted out a question about whether or not I wanted to have children. I have to confess, I hadn't even thought about it. The reproductive urge is at the heart of behavior and biology in the animal kingdom. It informs every area of my study, but I somehow had never even considered for myself…well, it goes to show how distant we witches and wizards hold ourselves.

"Stalling, I asked you what you thought, and even though you seemed embarrassed at first, once I finally got you to talk you were quite definite on the subject. You wanted at least two children, a boy and a girl, and not so far apart in age that they couldn't be companions. I told you that being close in age was no guarantee—that I'm only three years younger than my brother while I'm nine years older than my sister, but I'd prefer to spend an afternoon with her every time."

He took a breath, and glanced at Tina. She had moved her hands back down to her knees, and her legs were back to swinging off the end of the examination table. She was still leaning back, away from him.

"What did I say about that?" she asked.

Newt held her gaze as long as he could, then looked off to where the aereospore's green fronds were gently swaying in the corner.

"You said we'd have time to figure it out, because it would be best to wait until all this business with Grindelwald was over for good. I thought—I thought that meant you would have, well, that you would have used a spell to prevent pregnancy or seen a witch-midwife about it. But again, I'm sorry to say, I just didn't think about it. And now—now things are as they are. I'm so, so sorry that it hasn't gone how you wanted."

He looked back to Tina and she nodded, accepting his apology apparently. She looked down at her knees and leaned slightly forward.

"I don't remember wanting kids," she admitted. "I can remember Mom and Pop dying, and after that, I never wanted to have kids—I'd never want to leave someone alone like that. Things must have gotten better in there, huh, for me to ever want to…"

She looked up at Newt with a longing expression. She wanted to believe, to trust him, but she'd been hurt so many times. Why should she be left with those memories of being abandoned and thrust into this confusing and terrifying reality? Newt swallowed. He should try—it would be his duty to try to remind her that there had been good times, and that she had grown and flourished despite all of the adversity she'd encountered. Tina was still Tina.

"It did." He blushed. "I mean, it did—for both of us. I had thought that my work was all there was ever going to be for me. Instead, I found you, and our friends, and I realized that there could be so much more. That was something that you gave me. And I hope that being together gave you the same hope."

Tina blinked at him. She was definitely leaning forward now. She moistened her lips with her tongue. She looked at him through lowered lashes.

A knock came at the door, followed by incessant hammering and a final loud thump. Newt and Tina looked at each other, and Newt sprang up to see what all the commotion was about. Tina hopped off the table and looked over his shoulder as he opened the door.

Jacob was on the other side. "Heyyy guys," he said. "Sorry to bother you…"

"What? What's happened?" Newt asked. Tina reached around him to point to his case, sitting on its side against the far wall.

"Yeahhh," said Jacob. "About that. You know how you told us never to open it without you there?"

"Oh no. Who's got out this time?" Newt sighed. He'd developed several ingenious mechanisms to keep his creatures inside the case, but it seemed that every time he made an advance they would suddenly devise a way to get around it.

"It was…" Jacob sighed. He looked extremely disappointed in himself. "It was the niffler. I know you said to keep a special eye out for that little guy, but he's so darned sneaky."

Newt looked back and forth down the empty hallway.

"Oh damn."

Tina kicked out at the back of his leg.

"Watch it!" she said. Newt almost smiled. This Tina was in some ways even more proper about certain things than she'd later become. And he thought she'd been a touch over the top then.

"I need to go catch it before it gets into more trouble. Honestly, getting loose in a hospital? What on earth is he thinking?"

"I'll come too—" said Tina.

"But the healer—"

"This guy can wait for her!"

Tina stepped around Newt and hauled Jacob back into the examination room. Newt picked up his case and started to walk off when Jacob called—"Hey, Queenie's still in there!"

Newt, looking very harried, thrust the case at him.

"Did you see which way—?"

There was a loud crash from somewhere down the corridor. Newt and Tina looked at each other, and took off in that direction.

-o-o-o-

When Newt and Tina stumbled back into the examination room, breathless but triumphant, they did not at first notice that it was considerably fuller than they had left it.

"Queenie, you'll never guess what we just did!" Tina said happily upon seeing her sister's golden curls. When her Queenie turned, however, her expression was so uncharacteristically serious that all the good feelings generated by the past half hour of action seemed to flow right out of Tina. It was then that Newt and Tina realized that while Jacob and Queenie were in the room, there was also another person. One with gray hair pulled back tightly from her face the better to showcase a severe expression. She wore voluminous black robes and a tall peaked hat in the old fashion and sat furthest into the room on the stool. A single dark brow was raised.

Tina muttered, "Uh-oh."

Newt, standing behind her, put a careful hand to the pocket of his coat where the niffler rode and prayed that he hadn't missed any of the medical instruments the creature had been interrupted while stockpiling. It would not do to get stabbed with a stray syringe now. His eyes caught his case, behind Jacob's knees where he leaned against the wall on the far side of the examination table.

"And are you Mr. And Mrs. Scamander? Or is this another misunderstanding?" The witch with the iron gray hair did not look amused.

Jacob cringed, and Queenie looked near tears. She reached out to Tina.

"Tina, is it true? Are you pregnant? Did you really not know?" She look a step toward her sister. Tina took a step back, her back brushing against the front of Newt's coat.

Tina pressed back further, and though Newt didn't want to stop her, he put a hand on her elbow and stepped to the side, shutting the door. Under normal circumstances he would have been pleased and relieved that Tina had become so much more comfortable with him, but at the moment there was the niffler to contend with. If he could just get a moment alone with the case he could send the niffler back home and this would all be considerably less tense. While it wasn't illegal to own a Niffler in Great Britain, it was certainly still frowned upon to bring animals, whether pets or livestock, into a hospital.

"I am—I mean, we are—" Newt tried to answer the first question first.

"In that case I will need Mr. And Mrs. Kowalski to leave, immediately." Was it just Newt's imagination, or was there a little undue stress on the "Mrs"? It would be very inconvenient indeed if that came out.

Newt grabbed his case from Jacob as he went by.

"Sorry," Jacob muttered, and Newt nodded. For a moment it looked like Queenie wasn't going to leave without and answer from Tina, but finally Jacob was able to lead her out by the arm. Once Jacob and Queenie were out of the room, Newt considered kneeling in the far corner and putting the niffler back in, but the witch on the stool coughed and he whipped around. She indicated that he sit in the chair, and he did so, one hand over where the niffler was concealed in the inner breast pocket of his coat. Tina reluctantly took her seat back on the table.

"I am Midwife Jane Moon-Leanfear. Honoria Lockhart asked me to come by as a special favor since I have been lead to believe that you were here for another matter when it was discovered that you were in need of my services."

She paused and Newt hurried to respond.

"Yes, yes that is correct. Thank you for coming so quickly. I'm Newt Scamander, and this is my wife Tina." He hurried to give a history this time. "We've been married for a little over three months. Twenty-four days after we were married, Tina returned to her work as an Auror for MACUSA and suffered a severe injury while on a case. Several injuries, actually. I've been most concerned about her memory loss, brought about by an blunted obliviate charm, but now come to find out she was— that there were—well, the cuts and scrapes that she suffered seem of more importance now than they did at the time."

Newt riffled around in his pocket, careful not to dislodge the niffler, and sorted through the papers he'd brought with him until he found the medical report the healers at MACUSA had done up for Tina. It included photographs of her injuries, and it made him feel sick to see Tina grimacing in pain inside them. But it might be very important indeed, so he handed them to the midwife.

The witch took them in one strong, lined hand. She remained expressionless as she looked over the papers, handing them back to Newt as soon as she'd finished. She turned to where Tina was sitting on the table.

"And you, Mrs. Scamander. What can you tell me of your situation?"

"Me? I don't…I can't remember a thing about the attack."

"What about your pregnancy? Did you have any suspicions? Maybe now, in hindsight, something is clearer?"

Tina frowned. Newt cut in,

"Midwife Moon-Leanfear, Tina's memories are spotty even concerning events after the attack. She may truly be unable to recall anything. Her sister Queenie was caring for her most closely though, perhaps if we asked—"

"I asked Mrs. Scamander a question, sir."

This was delivered in a calm but authoritative manner. Newt gulped and left it to Tina. She frowned again, but started talking.

"I didn't even remember I was married. You'd think, wouldn't you, that I'd remember something about such a big deal. I can remember my parents dying. I can remember my grandparents' funeral. I remember school at Ilvermorny. Sometimes I think I remember parts of my job. But I don't remember him," she admitted. "It wasn't til we were on a ship, and I got to see all those amazing animals—I think that's the first time I really remember him. And I guess I had just been sick. Was I sick a lot?"

She looked at Newt. Realization dawned. He turned to the midwife.

"She was! Her sister had thought it was a reaction to a calming potion that the healers in New York had prescribed. But now, perhaps it was actually morning sickness?"

The midwife nodded. "Possible. I want a copy of the receipt for that potion. But I'd like to return to the part about…animals?" The raised eyebrow was back.

Newt squirmed, and he placed his hand on the niffler through his coat again. He coughed.

"I am a magizoologist. I work for the Ministry in the Magical Creatures division and I've also authored a textbook—"

"Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," Tina finished automatically. They looked at each other with wide eyes.

"Did you just—" Newt began.

"I don't know! Maybe! But maybe Queenie said something. Maybe I saw it somewhere—"

"Or maybe you remembered something!" Newt said, a smile breaking over his face in excitement.

Tina smiled back.

Jane Moon-Leanfear cleared her throat. Newt continued.

"Sorry. I also care for injured or endangered animals," he continued. "Tina used to assist me. She became particularly good at wrangling bowtruckles. They can be so tetchy, you know."

"Be that as it may," the midwife said, somewhat bemused by Newt's enthusiasm, "I want you both to think carefully about whether or not this is a safe occupation for Mrs. Scamander at present. However skilled she was in the past, if she's lost her memories of how to handle magical creatures it could be extremely dangerous to have her around them."

Newt thought of Ethel the erumpent and shifted guiltily.

The midwife rose from her seat.

"I'd now like to conduct an examination. It should be similar to what Healer Lockhart did earlier."

She took up a large carpetbag that had been hidden behind her voluminous black robes and set it on the stool. From within its brocade depths she took out several sensor-devices and set them in midair where they hovered against the far wall of the room. One of them was a silver spinner which looked much like a standard spell-detector but was likely calibrated to find certain health conditions. Another was a modified wooden and brass metronome whose pendulum started ticking quite rapidly as soon as Jane Moon-Leanfear flicked her wand between it and Tina. Midwife Moon-Leanfear took out a very impressive set of glasses with many lenses which could be raised or lowered. She put it on, and looked Tina over very carefully, using rose colored, black, and scintillating lenses one after the other. Then she moved on to blue and black at once. Newt and Tina both sat at attention while the midwife worked.

After a moment she straightened and removed the glasses.

"So far so good, dear," she said to Tina.

"What's that?" Tina gestured to the ticking metronome by the back wall.

"That's keyed to the heartbeat."

Tina's eyes went wide. "So fast?"

The midwife cocked her head for a moment. "One hundred fifty-four beats per minute is just fine for how far along you are."

"And how far is that? Healer Lockhart said eleven and a half weeks," Tina sounded like she would like to be told once more that the date of conception fell within the appropriate window.

The midwife bustled back to her bag, pulling out a small beaker into which she dripped four drops of cobalt liquid from a pipette that she had summoned.

"Spit," she commanded Tina.

Tina did, and the midwife went on to add a few more droplets, swirling the beaker by hand at the end until it let out a little puff of purple smoke.

"Eleven weeks, five days, eight hours and twenty-three minutes, give or take three minutes for potion preparation," she announced.

"Does that seem right?" Tina asked Newt intently.

Newt resorted to counting on his fingers, the tips of his ears getting more and more red as he neared the end of his mental journey through time. He was trying to simultaneously remember and not remember the event itself. He nodded.

Jane Moon-Leanfear let out a brief hoot of a laugh that Newt wouldn't have expected of her.

"It's good to find that one of you at least has a solid memory of the incident." She used a cleaning spell on her potions equipment and directed her sensors back into her carpetbag. She removed it from the stool and settled herself there instead.

"Mr. Scamander, do you know if Mrs. Scamander had an anticonception charm placed on her or was taking a precautionary potion?"

"Um, no."

Midwife Moon-Leanfear looked very unimpressed with his answer.

"Hmph. Well, there's clearly no such charm on her now, and there's no way to know whether or not she'd been consuming such a potion, unless you remember something. Ah well, there's nothing to be done about it now. In the future, however, it will likely be useful for the two of you to know if there's a standard potion which is ineffective for Mrs. Scamander."

Tina giggled. The midwife raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry. It's just—it's nice to see somebody else get in trouble for not remembering somethin'."

"Tina, you're not in trouble. Never that. We just—"

Jane Moon-Leanfear cut Newt right off with a hand gesture. She turned and spoke to Tina very seriously.

"Normally I would ask your husband to leave for the next part, but Healer Lockhart has informed me that due to your unstable memory he is your legal proxy. Be that as it may, I'd still like to give you the opportunity for a private consultation. Would you like me to ask Mr. Scamander to leave?"

Tina chewed her lip, her eyes darting between Jane Moon-Leanfear and Newt. Finally she shook her head.

"It's true—I haven't been doing real well. I could forget, and I'd like somebody to know what you said in case I need to know later. He's been…pretty helpful so far," she admitted. Behind the pocket where the niffler lay mercifully still, Newt felt his heart swell.

Jane Moon-Leanfear gave him an appraising look. "Be that as it may, I'd still like to ask him to keep his thoughts to himself through the next part of the interview.

"I can tell you that your pregnancy is progressing with absolutely no signs of distress, Mrs. Scamander." Her voice was calm, and her face gave away nothing of what she was thinking. "This is an unusual case, and it is my duty to apprise you of your options. You may, of course, continue with the pregnancy. If you so choose, we can discuss options for your care. However, if you do not wish to continue with the pregnancy, you also have the option of termination. In light of your recent injury, such a choice would be completely understandable. There may be legal complications, but my duty is toward the woman first. A witch-midwife stands on the line between this world and the other, and it is my sworn duty to do whatever you decide in this regard."

Tina looked shocked, and her eyes immediately flew to Newt. The bottom had dropped out of his stomach for the second (or third?) time that day, but he put all his effort into remaining calm and nonjudgmental. Much as he might grieve the loss of a potential child with Tina, it was absolutely her choice. Hadn't she just said that as far as she could remember, she hadn't wanted children? It was completely unfair to ask her to share her body with a new life when even her mind wasn't reliably her own. Tina looked back to the midwife, but remained silent. Jane Moon-Leanfear spoke again.

"I would like you to remember that any termination procedures would be completely safe, and you should have no more trouble conceiving again than you did this time if you choose to do so in the future. If you would like some time to think this over, that can also be arranged. However, I do want you to know that your choice may have repercussions for your memory treatment. Certain potions are not advisable during pregnancy."

Newt almost had to stuff his fist into his mouth at this. Would Tina be unable to take any potion that Slughorn came up with using the mbwo? Was it all for naught?

"Can I ask a question?" Tina's voice was small

"Certainly, my dear," said the midwife. "What is it?"

"No. I want to ask him a question," Tina said, pointing at Newt.

Newt coughed. "Of course," he said.

"What did you say to me? Did you ever answer when I asked you if you wanted children?"

Newt blinked, then remembered what he had related to Tina earlier. In all the commotion with the niffler he had forgotten. With an uneasy glance at the midwife, he prepared to speak. He hoped she wouldn't think he was trying to influence Tina's decision.

"Oh. Well, I have to confess that I sort of slithered out of answering that day. As I told you, I quite honestly hadn't given the matter even a moment's thought. I've nursed countless creatures, and have acted as a midwife in my own way for them. Mother and father too. But there has always been this gap, you know, between me the magizooligist, and me, the social and biological human being. It wasn't until I met you and Jacob, and Queenie too, that I began to think it could be bridged.

"So I thought about it for a week or two, and then I told you that if it was with you, I would be honored to have children."

Both Tina and the midwife were perfectly quiet after this disclosure. Newt, feeling nervous, hurried to fill the silence.

"But that does not mean that you should continue with this pregnancy. It's unfair to expect you to deal with so many things at once. And if it might delay treatment for your memory damage, I can't condone…That is, I would be honored to have children with you whenever you think it best to do so. Whether that's now, or in a few years, or after Grindelwald is successfully defeated as you wanted, or even never, I'll accept your decision."

Tina looked away from Newt, back toward the midwife.

"I'm gonna keep this baby," she said.

Jane Moon-Leanfear clapped her hands together.

"Excellent. Then, we have a few things to go over today and then we'll arrange for a home visit for our next appointment."

Newt blinked.

"Wait, that was it? Are you sure? What about Slughorn—?"

The midwife looked at him.

"It's been decided, Mr. Scamander. Please keep up."

She turned back to Tina.

"How has your diet been? If you can't remember the past few months then please relate what you've eaten in the past two days."

Tina's brow furrowed. "I remember eating a bun?" She sounded unsure.

Midwife Moon-Leanfear turned to Newt.

"Since your wife may not be able to keep track of her dietary intake, it will fall to you to help her. Please let me know at our home visit whether or not she has any troubles following the program."

She waved her wand, and a heavy sheaf of parchment landed on Newt's lap with a thud.

"H—home visit?" Newt asked. He felt as if the slight stutter he'd suffered from as a child were coming back. This really was a trying situation. He couldn't even begin to make out what he felt about it at the moment. But this was rather important.

"Of course. I'll need to see the environment where Mrs. Scamander plans to give birth."

"But—but that will be ages from now," Newt started.

"Sooner than you likely expect. Were you planning to return to the States? I understood that you work for the Ministry of Magic. Mrs. Scamander cannot be expected to return to a dangerous job as an active duty Auror while dealing with memory loss and pregnancy."

"No—of course not. Home visit. Right. It's just that, our schedule is very much up in the air at the moment until we discuss the situation with Professor Slughorn again. I had thought that Tina might be staying here for observation while she underwent treatment."

"Here as in St. Mungo's?" The midwife looked extremely disapproving. "Long term hospital care is not in the least the healthy sort of environment that a pregnant mother needs. She'd be best in a place where she could get plenty of fresh air and do a lot of walking. She's strong, and it'll do her good to stay that way for what's to come."

Newt sunk down. "I'm afraid my lodgings are in London—"

"Well perhaps you ought to make other arrangements. Send me an owl in two days and I'll be able to give you a time for our appointment."

She turned her attention from Newt to Tina. "If you have any difficulties, my dear, please to not hesitate to send me an owl. I understand that you may have trouble remembering directions, or even possibly this meeting. I will do my best to look in on you regularly to be certain that everything is progressing well."

She gathered her belongings, stepped up to Tina on the table, and touched her briefly on the forehead with her fingertips.

"Goodbye dear. Mr. Scamander—don't forget. An owl within two days."

She opened the door, and it revealed a surprised-looking Horace Slughorn.

"Where are Queenie and Jacob?" Newt asked, craning his neck to see if they were in the corridor.

"I sent them to find the dining hall. They both looked as if they could do with something," he said. He looked at Jane Moon-Leanfear in what almost seemed like fear. Newt was a little relieved to find he wasn't the only one.

"So it's true then."

Instead of responding to Slughorn's question, the midwife just quirked a brow and swept off to the side. "See you Monday, Mr. Slughorn," she said as she strode down the white corridor.

Newt and Tina both stared at him. He seemed to have been put completely off-balance. He reluctantly explained, "My wife Prudence is expecting."

"Congratulations," said Tina, looking bemused that they would be sharing a midwife with Mr. And Mrs. Slughorn. Or perhaps she was stuck on the shock that Slughorn was married at all. Newt certainly wouldn't have expected it of him. And he hadn't seemed eager to share that information with them.

"So she makes home visits even in the far north?" Newt asked. He tried not to sound depressed.

"Yes, I believe she considers the whole island her territory. She has assistants though. And there are others. But for a difficult case, there's really no one better," Slughorn admitted.

So there would be no escaping Midwife Moon-Leanfear unless he actually did return with Tina to the States. And honestly, Newt wasn't sure what standard of care they had there. He'd been given to understand that the Healers in New York actually referred patients to muggle doctors for issues they deemed not magical enough to warrant their expertise.

Slughorn turned to more cheerful subjects. "I have taken a look at the plant, Scamander, and I have to say, it's incredible! There are twenty potential uses I'd like to try it for, and who knows what else may be discovered accidentally. There will certainly be a memory component. It shares some unexpected properties with Rosemary, but of course it's not closely related botanically speaking. This may be an independent mutation to fill a similar need and enhanced by its proximity to that creature."

He paused. "I should like to get some of that venom you used in New York, you know. I heard about it from the Minister himself. It might prove very helpful."

Newt tried not to let his eyes stray to where his case was propped against the far wall. It certainly wouldn't do to let Slughorn get an eyeful of what he had in there. Magical beasts were considered most valuable dried and in pieces by wizards such as Slughorn. And yet, those with research on their minds were much easier to persuade about conservation efforts—they at least didn't want to see shortages of ingredients. It was the Aurors whose first concern was always the Statute of Secrecy that were the real sticklers. A dead magical beast to them was first in their minds one that could not expose the wizarding world to the muggles. They generally viewed rare beast protection preserves as a preventable accident waiting happen.

His father had spoked strongly in favor of conservation when he'd held the family post. Now that it had passed to Theseus, Newt felt much less certain that his work would be well received. And as he had been interested in other matters such as international security and Tina for most of the time since his father's retirement Newt had never bothered to have a conversation and find out.

"Scamander?" Slughorn said. He had moved further into the room and seated himself on the stool. Tina stretched her long leg out from where it dangled from the table and nudged his knee with her boot.

"Um, yes? Sorry," he returned to the present moment.

"Could I get some of that venom?" he prodded.

"I'm not sure what use it could have in helping to return Tina's memories. The two substances seem to work as a counter-balance. But see here, this may all need to be postponed."

Newt glanced up at Tina's confused face. He looked down at his hands in his lap.

"The midwife said that Tina may not be able to take a potion while she's pregnant."

"Piffle. If I'm mixing, there's no question of side effects." Slughorn's voice changed from arrogant to extremely serious. "There is a reason I am regarded as Britain's foremost potions expert, and this is it: my potions work as intended or not at all. I take safety very seriously. It will be a challenge, but I will not give anything to Mrs. Scamander that I would not feel safe giving to my own wife. I give you my word."

Relief coursed through Newt. There was hope. Tina could be back to her old self before the baby was born. Newt finally began to relax from where he'd been sitting stiffly. The niffler seemed to take this as a cue to wake, since he began wriggling around rapidly. Newt put a hand on him and said hopefully to Slughorn,

"So, when shall we get started?"

"Oh, I may be able to make it down here with a first try in a fortnight."

Newt frowned. He'd been hoping to hear something more like "right away" instead.

"So long?"

"I am engaged at Hogwarts, you know," Slughorn said testily. "Some of us are aware of the honor of the post."

So Slughorn knew that he'd turned down the Care of Magical Creatures position. Newt had thought that the whole thing was confidential. He wondered who else might have that information.

"Of course," said Newt shortly. "So in the meantime, what are we to do?"

Slughorn looked at him blankly.

Newt sighed, feeling very lost. "If there's nothing further I can give you—and the venom will take some time to collect—might we see Healer Lockhart one more time?"

Slughorn rose. "Of course, of course. And let me say once more how sorry I am that this tragedy has befallen your family at what would otherwise be such a happy time of celebration. A son married and about to carry on the line should still be considered a net gain though, even with the memory trouble, eh?"

If Slughorn was trying to look on the bright side, Newt was not able to appreciate his attempt.

"Look," Newt said desperately. "This needs to remain confidential. We don't know who attacked Tina or why they left her alive with such dreadful memory damage. It can't get out that she's being treated, or even that she's going to have a baby. I'd like to keep it quiet that she's even in England."

Slughorn looked at him pityingly. "I should think that ship has sailed. I nipped over to the Leaky Cauldron for a bite of lunch earlier, and Tillie Armentrout was in, and telling anybody who looked at her that she'd seen you and your new wife this morning."

As the small man rose from his seat, he added, "She also had some very interesting speculation about exactly what's inside that case of yours."

Newt scrambled from his seat, seized the case and stood beside the table where Tina was sitting. He held out his hand and shook Slughorn's.

"We'll see you in two weeks, Professor."

Slughorn looked at the case, as if he might say something more, but then nodded and opened the door. "I'll send Honoria back in to see you."

As the door shut behind him, Tina spoke.

"Is that how long a fortnight is?"

"Yes." Newt ran his hands through his hair. He wasn't sure if the question indicated memory loss or merely being American.

"Then what are we going to do til then?" she asked, looking up at him while biting slightly on her lower lip.

Newt tried to smile reassuringly.

"We'll think of something," he said. He was glad Queenie was out of the room for a few moments, because there was no way he would have been able to effectively hide all the rapid and disparate thoughts that were darting around in his head. He took the niffler out of his pocket, and Tina took the little creature from his hands. Newt watched her pet the niffler for a few moments, glad that he could offer her at least that small comfort amidst the chaos of the day.

 _A/N: Thanks so much for reading and especially for commenting. Comments are how I learn what's working in my writing and what's not. I'm here to learn as well as tell stories, so I'd really appreciate your feedback. Please review!_

 _Thanks!_


	6. Chapter 6

Newt and Tina met Queenie and Jacob in the lobby of St. Mungo's. If Newt had thought that Healer Lockhart was going to whisk Tina away to the long-term care ward, he was sorely mistaken. It had been wonderful that Tina had functioned so well at the hospital, but it also hadn't given the healers the opportunity to see her as she had been for much of the past two months. Lockhart had given them a few mental exercises to do and dismissed them, telling Newt she'd look in on them when they returned for their next appointment with Professor Slughorn. Home visits, hospital appointment—Newt was going to have to find his watch. He hadn't worn it since the last stretch of time when he'd been in London and had been expected to turn up in an office in a timely manner. That had been quite a while ago. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't entirely sure what his job would look like when he turned up at the Ministry. He hoped he still had one.

Tina walked along beside him, while Newt left Queenie and Jacob to follow behind. It was late afternoon, and the sun was setting. Londoners were leaving work and hustling along the pavement toward their destinations. Finally, Queenie caught up to Newt and spoke.

"I can't make any sense out of your thoughts right now! Where are we headed?"

Newt had been dreading this question, because then he would have to come up with an answer for it. He clamped down on his thoughts so that Queenie would not realize that he'd been making them walk in circles so that he could figure out what on earth he was going to do with them all.

Queenie sounded exasperated, and she balanced one hand on Tina's shoulder so she could massage her heel, which had been crammed into a very fashionable shoe, with the other. Jacob caught up and supported Queenie on the other side.

"I—am still deciding." Newt tried to sound measured and serious. It wouldn't do to let the panic show.

He would dearly love to settle his friends somewhere safe for a few hours while he worked this all out. He'd have cheerfully put them all in his case, except he still hadn't sorted out the erumpent, and he'd need to be there anyway to make certain that Tina hadn't forgotten some crucial part of interacting with the creatures. Hearing the midwife mention that had certainly brought on guilt that he hadn't really stopped to seriously consider what was best for Tina on a day to day basis. He'd been so fixated on meeting with Slughorn and getting her memory restored that Newt had been ignoring the fact that they all had to exist until that could happen.

Though he'd happily taken responsibility for all the creatures in his case—Merlin, for training a whole regiment of dragons during the war!—Newt had always avoided being responsible for people. Now he had three Americans—one injured, one muggle, one legilimens—to shepherd through the Magical World in Britain. And then on the horizon there loomed a new person, a tiny helpless and completely terrifying creature who, unless Theseus had been up to something very unlike his usual self, would be the first of a new generation of Scamanders, and all that went with that.

Newt shuddered. He stopped walking and ushered them all into an alleyway out of sight of the street. He turned away from the others, closed his eyes, ran his hands through his his hair so that it became even more disheveled than usual, and took a deep breath. He turned back to them.

"Grab hold please, yes, Queenie too. I'll sidealong apparate us to a place where we can rest for a little while at least."

"All of us?" asked Tina. "Wow."

"Where?" Queenie asked again, this time more sharply.

"The Leaky Cauldron. It's in Diagon Alley, the Wizarding quarter of London. Right. Everybody got a secure hold?"

Newt held his wand in his right hand and maneuvered his case under the other arm so that he could hold Tina's hand tightly with the other. Jacob clutched his right shoulder and Queenie held onto both Jacob and Newt's left arm where he held his case. They all swirled out of sight.

They reappeared in a distant area of the city, in a different, more unpleasant smelling alleyway. They stepped out onto the street, and Newt saw his friends taking in the differences. The stores were not quite so smart and the sidewalks were not quite so wide as near St. Mungo's. A rickety sign over a narrow door proclaimed that it was in fact, the Leaky Cauldron. Newt stepped up and held the door open to the dim interior.

Jacob, Queenie, and Tina all went inside, and Newt hurried to the bar. A ferocious-looking witch with dark skin and impeccably groomed sweeping eyebrows looked at him with mild inquiry. Her black and lavender robes were a bit newer and cleaner than the typical barkeep. He supposed she had to make up for that with a bit of a fierce demeanor.

"Hullo Aggy," he said. "You still running this place?"

Agatha Brown smiled, looking somewhat less intimidating with her pearly white teeth showing. Aggie had been a year ahead of Newt at Hogwarts, in Ravenclaw. No one would have pegged her for a barkeep back then. In fact, she'd left school for a career in finance and had immediately scored big in a deal with some Goblins in Asia. She had returned to England and bought the pub off the previous owner, who had almost run it into the ground despite the regular custom and good reputation. Her work ethic and cash resources had the place looking almost respectable despite the centuries of wear on the place.

"I am, for the time being. You want to buy me out Scamander?"

Newt shook his head furiously.

"Not in a thousand years. But I do have a favor to ask. Do you have any free rooms upstairs?"

"'Free' as in unoccupied or 'free' as in you've got no clink?" One dragon-wing brow rose.

Newt fidgeted. He looked down at the counter. He looked behind him, and thankfully Jacob had sat down a ways away at a rough-hewn wooden table with Queenie, and they were convincing Tina to sit as well. They shouldn't be able to hear him.

"It's just til Gringott's opens tomorrow," he said. "I'll pay you directly. But we've been at the hospital all day since getting off the ship, and now I've missed our chance for the evening."

Aggie looked over at the Americans occupying the table in the back.

"That your wife then, the dark-haired one?"

Newt raised his eyes to meet Aggie's. He wasn't surprised really that she'd put that together. Not if Tillie from the Customs office had been in to gossip.

"Yes," he said shortly. "She's an Auror for MACUSA, and she was injured on duty. I thought she might have needed to stay at St. Mungo's for treatment, but apparently it's not going to begin for a fortnight," he finished miserably, relieved to be unburdening himself to someone he knew wouldn't tell the whole world.

"So you want my 'free' rooms for a fortnight?" Aggie looked unimpressed.

"No—maybe—just let me get to Gringotts and I'll figure it out."

"I'm sure you've got something in there that you can part with," she said, nodding to the case in his hand.

"My niffler has collected a few things, if you would take—" Newt started brightly.

"No way. You'd better be careful, talking like that. You'd get taken in by your own department!" Aggie frowned at him again. "You know those are considered ill-gotten gains."

Newt sighed.

"I'm afraid that's all I've got to offer, at least until things open up tomorrow."

Aggie crossed her arms.

"All right, you can stay. I've got two unoccupied rooms upstairs. I suppose you need dinner and drinks as well?"

Newt nodded.

"I probably have enough to cover that," he began.

Aggie waved this off.

"But I expect payment tomorrow or I'll turn you out. I don't care how adorable your American Auror is." She leaned in. "Has she been up to meet your family, yet?"

Newt shook his head miserably.

"Well, there you are then. Free meals and plenty of room. Surely your Mum is champing at the bit to meet her?"

Newt ran his hand through his hair.

"No, Aggie. I can't—I won't. It's—it's too much. Tina needs a calm, stress-free environment."

"I thought your family place was idyllic?"

Newt made a face.

"The grounds are not the problem. No. It's not the place for Tina right now. And her sister—" Newt looked back over his shoulder.

"And that one, is he her husband?"

"Ye-es." Newt hurried to cover his hesitation. Aggie was sharp. "He's a muggle though."

"I see. And they've escaped overseas so they can be together? Well that's nice. You think your parents wouldn't approve?"

"I neither know, nor care. It isn't relevant." Newt refused to get drawn into the drama. "But I've got to get back to Tina. Thanks so much. You've really saved me here."

Aggie waved him off.

"Go sit down. I'll bring you all some supper."

After eating a plain but satisfying meal and having a quick pint of Aggie's Dragon Stout, a young witch with an apron over her simple robes came to take them all to their room. Newt he helped Tina into one room, and asked Queenie to stay with her. Then he stepped across the hall to the other room, where Jacob was loosening his tie and unbuttoning his top button.

"So what's the plan?" Jacob asked.

Newt ignored him in his haste to place his case and step inside. He hopped down the steps and started rummaging around in one of the drawers under the counter in his shed.

"Whatcha looking for?" Jacob asked. Newt was not surprised that Jacob had followed him, but took a moment to think what to tell him.

"A key," Newt said, holding up an old skeleton type. "But not this one," he added, tossing it back into the drawer. He got out his wand and tried a summoning charm that just served to stir up the junk in his drawer. Newt got up from where he was crouching, sat down on his stool, and placed his forehead flat on the counter. Other than Aggie's charity, very little had gone right since they'd boarded the ship for England.

"What's the key for?" Jacob came over and sat a little ways beside Newt on a crate. Newt turned his head toward Jacob but did not bother to sit up.

"I'm looking for two keys, really, but I think I know where the other is. The one I'm after is for the flat that I'd been sharing with some coworkers. The thing is, though, unless they now have an extra room it won't do us much good since Tina shouldn't be down here. I used to just rent out the linen cupboard, and sleep in my case. It was much more economical than proper lodging, and I'd got used to it. But I thought I should at least go over there and see if Bludger knows of a place we could stay."

"Bludger?" asked Jacob

"Bloomsbury Snicket, really, but with a face like his, well, someone at school said he must have been hit with a bludger as a child, and he thought it was funny. It stuck."

"Hilarious."

Jacob shuddered and looked up at the faded Chudley Cannons poster tacked to the wall that had led Newt to describe the game of quiddich. It hadn't gone very well. Jacob was horrified at the idea of balls charmed to hurl themselves at the players. He claimed he'd had nightmares about inanimate objects attacking him as a kid, and it was unsettling to discover that sometimes they actually did. Perhaps there'd be time to see an actual match if they were going to be here for an extended amount of time.

"And what's the other key for?" asked Jacob.

Newt pushed up off the counter and stepped across to the little chest of drawers where he kept his clothes and personal things. This search was more fruitful. He picked up his little key to vault eleven-oh-two off of the tray on top of the chest and held it up. He'd had it since becoming employed at an earlier age than most wizards, and as such, it was meaningful to him.

"Gringotts vault key," said Newt. "It's like a bank. But very different from the one where I met you. More goblins."

Jacob raised a brow. "I dunno about that. Mr. Bingley and Gnarlak seemed to have a couple things in common."

Newt chuckled. "Yes, well, Gringotts is run entirely by actual goblins. It's considered a bit of a wonder in London, not least because goblins don't have right of open passage in most of western Europe anymore, so outside of designated magical zones, all of them have to remain concealed at all times. How they travel is still a bit of a mystery to most of us. You'll enjoy seeing it."

Newt almost dropped his Gringotts key into his coat pocket, when a thought struck him. He tucked the vault key behind his ear and started pulling out everything from his coat pockets and dumping it all on the tray. It was mostly odds and ends, little bits of paper, jars of ointment that he needed for various creatures' various ailments, pencils, quills, a few library books that he'd never got round to returning, a humane murtlap trap—

"I usually try to ignore this stuff," Jacob cut in, "but that is going too far. How in the world did you fit all that junk in your pockets?"

Newt smiled, and continued to turn out his pockets.

"How did I fit all this into a small leather suitcase?" he returned.

"Yeah, how?" Jacob pressed.

Newt blew out a breath through his nose. He was getting down to it and he still hadn't found the key to Bludger's flat. At this rate he'd just have to turn up and knock, and that would not present quite the same returning-home feeling he wanted to project.

"I'm not entirely sure how to explain it to a muggle. I'm sorry, it's nothing against you, but the charms themselves are quite advanced, so it would be difficult to even explain completely to a very young witch or wizard who doesn't have experience with the way charms and transfiguration intersect."

Newt glanced at Jacob, and saw a determined set to his chin. He was not going to just give up on this.

"Hmm. Well, let's just pretend you understand all the technical aspects, and I'll take you through the procedure. You start with an object, a coat, or a case. Sometimes objects are produced with extradimensionality in mind—the coat may have been, I don't know. I didn't do it myself, it was a birthday gift. But I did the case. I started with a case—granted, it was already made of dragon-hide, disguised to look like ordinary leather—but it was just a case, with the same interior volume one would expect in a similar case—yours, for example.

"Then, one takes the boundaries of the space within, and kind of, well, inflates them. Practically, this involves some calculations so that you still have boundaries—it wouldn't do to create infinite space within your case, or all your animals would just wander off and never be seen again. And from a philosophical standpoint, would you have enlarged the space at all, or just have opened a portal to an entirely new place?"

Newt glanced over at Jacob, whose face was scrunched up like he was trying very hard not to let his eyes glaze over.

"But that is a digression. In any case, naming the boundaries is crucial. The furthest points must all connect, so that the space inside has volume just as it always did. You've moved the points, so it's bigger!"

Newt thought that had been a decently constructed explanation, but a glance at Jacob showed it hadn't been exactly what he'd hoped for. Newt groped in the bottom of his right hand pocket and came up with the Yale Lock key that opened Bludger's place. He held it up triumphantly.

"Well, I'm off," he said. "If you wouldn't mind, Jacob, making sure that the graphorns have enough fodder for the night?"

"You don't want us to come with you?"

Newt shifted away.

"It'll be simpler if I can do this on my own. If I'm successful, well, you'll meet them all in the morning!"

"Okay…" said Jacob. "Just tell Queenie where you're going, ok? So she doesn't worry."

Newt didn't exactly nod, just ascended the stair. When he reached the hall between the bedrooms above the Leaky Cauldron he paused. He could hear Tina's voice, but couldn't make out what she was saying. Queenie seemed to be answering her. Newt tried to shield his thoughts so she wouldn't know he was there. It was exhausting being around a legilimens. For most of their acquaintance he hadn't had anything on his mind that he wanted to keep from her, but now that they were in a place that was constantly churning up memories, connections, and other people's private business it seemed both uncomfortable and unfair to have all that exposed to Queenie. A stray thought also might give her quite the wrong idea about how things were here, and he did not want her worrying Tina with things that were better left alone.

He felt vaguely guilty, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything to Queenie. With any luck, he'd be back before she noticed he was gone. With that, he checked the wards, found he could do so, and apparated himself to the attic of a fashionable block of muggle flats known as Twickenham Towers. The crisp stone exterior rose up for seven stories and was capped with a spacious attic. This had been appropriated by Bludger Snicket and transformed into a handsome penthouse with rooms enough to let out to wizards of Bludger's social set. Though he'd been in Hufflepuff, sons of the old wizarding families from all the houses had lived in the residence at one time or another. Newt just barely qualified for a linen closet, but as he was rarely at home and very little trouble, they let him in due to his family connections.

The quiet in the corridor gave Newt a bad feeling as he turned the key in the familiar brass lock. Sure enough, he opened the door and saw that the "penthouse" had been abandoned, as nothing was left to suggest it had ever been anything other than a storage space for the staff of the building below. Crates and old trunks were stacked where their kitchen used to be. Ah well. It wasn't as if it was the best place for Tina, and certainly wouldn't do as a place for 'home visits' from a midwife, but Bludger was another wizard who Newt might have counted on to look after his friends while he sought out some alternative space. Newt sighed, and a little shimmer next to the door caught his eye as he exhaled. He blew on it again, and a little plaque materialized.

It read: "If trying to reach Messers Crabbe, Pomfrey, Sage-Westley and Snicket, please inquire at 38B Diagon Alley East."

This sort of calling card, only responsive to the breath of a magic-user, was fairly common in old wizarding families, who had to keep their correspondence from muggles. However, it was generally considered to be rather elitist as squibs and other family members would be unable to read it. Annoyed, Newt apparated back to Diagon Alley. The new apartment was quite a ways down the street in the opposite direction from the Leaky Cauldron. It was to the east of Gringotts, which dominated the central portion of the street. Still, a flat here had to cost an astronomical amount of gold in rent. One of the four at least must have come into his money.

Newt knew the area well, and had only to walk down a block to the entryway from where he'd apparated. He rang the bell, then immediately regretted doing so. Did he really think the rather gormless Bludger would be able to help him look after his friends?

Above him, someone threw up the window sash. Newt saw Bludger Snicket's goodnatured face appear above him.

"Scamander! I heard you were back in the country!"

"That's not all I heard!" called someone else from inside.

"Hush you, you'll scare him off!" said Bludger over his shoulder.

"I just saw your card at the Twickenham flat. But I see you've moved on to bigger and better things," Newt said. "I ought to leave you to your evening." It was foolish of him to have followed up on the change of address. What on earth was there to be gained by looking up these chaps, who barely qualified as friends? No, it would be better to get back to his case, figure out what he could sell, and try to raise enough money the next day to visit the rental agency.

"Nonsense! Get up here and let's take a look at you," Bludger insisted.

Newt thought again of his friends, waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron, of Tina's half-hopeful, half-mistrustful dependency, of Jacob's unease and Queenie's determination to pry their next steps out of his head. The specter of a baby rose up in his mind. That was far too much for him to handle just now. He turned toward the door of the building and it opened before him. He went inside.

The residence of Messers Crabbe, Pomfrey, Sage-Westley, and Snicket looked as though a strong gale had just gone through. All the books were on the floor, the pictures had fallen from the walls and most of the highly polished black and white art deco furniture lay on its sides. A put-upon house elf was struggling to set everything to rights. Bludger met Newt at the door with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry for the mess. Quentin Travers is over, and he's been showing us his improved Tempest in a Teacup charm."

He indicated the lone white bone china teacup that sat on the floor in the eye of the chaos that affected the rest of the room.

"Looks like it might still need further improvement," Newt muttered.

"Ha! Yes, it does!" Bludger seized Newt by the arm and dragged him into the flat, which was fuller than Newt had previously realized of wizards he had been at school with. After a moment of becoming accustomed to it, Newt began to be able to pick them out of the mess. Martin Pomfrey waved cheerfully at Newt from where he sat perched on top of a bookshelf that had fallen on its side. He must have fixed his suit and tie, but his fair hair stuck up at all angles and his glasses were askew.

"Hullo Newt!" he called. "Good to see you! You know Cyril and Clarence, of course, but I'm not sure you ever knew Quentin."

He indicated a wizard in muggle evening dress who was crouched on the floor, examining the teacup. His dark hair also stood on end, but it was not quite so long as Martin's, so slicking it back with his hand managed to return it to being fashionable.

"I can't understand it. This time the tempest hit everywhere but the teacup! I never was much of a hand at these fiddly little spells." He sat up, looking peeved.

"Pleased to meet you," said Newt.

The dark-haired man finally glanced at him, then sprang up and extended his hand. "Oh! Newt Scamander! I didn't realize—my name is Quentin—Quentin Travers. Fancy meeting you here! I'm supposed to go up to Blethering House for the Christmas hols, you know. Theseus asked a few of us up."

"Ah," said Newt, shaking his hand. Perhaps it was good that he'd stopped by after all. He'd had no intention of taking Tina to his parents' home, but now that there would be visitors it was imperative that they stay well away from the place. He absolutely had to raise the funds to get out of this situation. There had to be a few Occamy eggshells that he'd tucked away somewhere.

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourselves," Newt said politely.

Before Quentin could respond, Cyril Sage-Westley appeared from the kitchen, clutching a bottle of something that he had evidently saved from the gale. He was a small wizard, with pale skin and light brown hair that fell limply to either side of his face whenever it had escaped pomade-enforced confinement on the top of his head. He was also in muggle evening dress. They must have gone out earlier, or have been planning to go out again later.

"Oh please, don't let's talk any more about anything so grand as the Lord Warden. I need a little fortification after that last misfire." Cyril waved his wand, and glasses arrived from the cabinets in the kitchen. He set the bottle to pouring into each of them. Newt took the one hovering before him out of politeness.

"Thanks," said Newt. It might not be a bad thing to take the edge off of his nerves. He'd had more thrown at him that day than he was able to process immediately, and at the moment the prospect of forgetting it all for a few hours was enticing. These chaps might not be much of a help as far as finding him respectable home-visit-ready housing, but they were first class as a distraction.

He took a sip, expecting champagne from the bubbles rising from the deep amber liquid, only to give a choking gasp as he realized it was far stronger. Cyril giggled at his reaction.

"It's fizzing whisky! The Chancey Sisters opened a distillery last year and this is one of the first batches. It's a bit weird but it certainly does the job!"

Newt coughed again and took another sip of the dark, almost red, fizzy liquor. It wasn't bad, now that he was more prepared. He looked around. He knew Bludger and Martin fairly well since they had been only a year ahead of him in Hufflepuff. Cyril had been in Ravenclaw, but he'd confessed some years before his regret that held resisted being sorted into Hufflepuff. Newt couldn't recall what house Quentin Travers had been in, since he was a couple years younger.

"Bubbly, Clarence?" Cyril asked, sending a glass over to the edge of the chaos.

Clarence Crabbe's substantial bulk sat heavily in an armchair in the corner smoking a cigarette as if he wished heartily that the rest of them weren't there. He grunted, and Cyril must have taken that as assent, because the glass made its way to Clarence's meaty hand. Newt had always found it odd that the surly Slytherin got on so well with Bludger, but they had roomed together since taking jobs in the Department of Magical Games and Sports after a short stint as teammates on the Wimbourne Wasps. Both had been beaters whose main asset was being built like bricks at a time when their opponents at school had been scrawny teenagers, so despite impressive records at Hogwarts, neither had turned out to be much of an asset to the team. When their initial contracts were up neither of them were renewed. Bludger's dad was able to get him started at the Ministry, and somehow Clarence had got in too.

Bludger waved his wand, and the white leather sofa set itself to rights. He and Cyril sat down, and Newt perched on the arm at the opposite end.

"So you've returned from New York?" Bludger asked. "Of course you have—"

"Wait!" Cyril said, holding up his hand. "Where's his case?"

They all looked around for it.

"Have you lost it?" Martin asked, coming down off the bookshelf. "Is that why you've turned up? Do you want me to do a finding spell for you?"

"No, the case is fine," Newt hurried to assure them. He was realizing that this was unlikely to have been the first bottle of fizzing whisky that evening and he didn't want the others to charge tipsily out onto the street in search of his case.

"A friend is looking after it for me."

"A friend?" said Bludger leadingly, now beaming from ear to ear.

"Or this American witch you're supposed to have married?" asked Cyril bluntly.

Newt looked around at the others. Quentin Travers had pulled up an armchair, and looked as interested in the rest at this. Even Clarence had stopped puffing and was looking up at him expectantly.

"My brother-in-law is looking after it for me," Newt said simply. This would be true, if Jacob actually was his brother-in-law and not scandalously unmarried to his wife's sister.

"So it's true!" Quentin Travers exclaimed. "I thought it must have been a rumour, since I'd just seen Theseus yesterday, and he hadn't said a word."

Newt looked at him oddly. In his experience, Theseus rarely spoke of either of his younger siblings, preferring to keep the conversation centered around his far more impressive self and the grand position he occupied. Newt took another drink and realized glumly that Quentin was likely to repeat whatever he said to Theseus. The sooner he left the better. But then they'd wonder why he came.

Ah well, he might as well ask.

"I've got to get back in a moment in fact," he said. "But we need a place to rent, and I thought I'd ask if you knew of anywhere. I'd like to stay in London, but I need a place for the four of us that's convenient to the Magical districts."

"Hmm," said Bludger. "I can't think of anything off the top of my head. There's a place our landlord owns, across the street, but it'll likely be a significant lease, cash up front."

Newt shifted. "I'm looking for a more flexible situation," he said.

"Sorry old boy, it's a bit of a housing crunch right now," said Cyril. "As you noticed our squatting didn't go over well with the Ministry and we were evicted. Mercifully Martin's great-uncle popped off and left him a bundle of gold, or we'd have never got this place. But unless they find a way to enlarge the wizarding quarter significantly, the Ministry is going to have to contend with more and more cases like ours. There is simply not enough muggle-proof housing in town, and with all these new restrictions on broomstick travel since muggles have gone wild for aero-planes or whatever they call them, more of us than ever need to live in London."

Bludger waved all this off, pointing his wand at the remainder of the hovering bottle of fizzing whisky and pouring it into Newt's mostly-empty glass.

"We'll keep an ear out for you, but there's more important things to discuss. Tell us about this American you've married!"

"She is a witch, and not a sphinx or something?"

"Cyril!" admonished Martin. "That's not very nice."

"Well, with Scamander you never know. I can't remember him looking twice at a girl," said Cyril.

"That's not true," defended Martin, "Didn't you know about Leda—"

"Tina is an auror," Newt blurted, not wanting Martin to go any further with reminiscences of something that Newt still found painful to think about.

"An auror?" asked Quentin. "Someone Theseus knows? He's been in close contact with the MACUSA aurors lately."

"No," said Newt sharply. "They are unacquainted, completely unconnected, and damned if I'm not going to do my best to keep it that way!"

An uncomfortable pause ensued. Newt took another hasty drink before thinking the better of it. He held the glass up to the light, examining the bubbling liquid in his glass suspiciously. He'd never before been an angry drinker. Perhaps he was having some sort of reaction to the liquor.

Martin looked between Newt and Quentin, whose mouth was open as if he could not fathom anyone having such a negative reaction to a connection with the exalted Theseus Scamander.

"You may not have realized, Quentin, since you've only been Theseus Scamander's secretary for a few months, but the brothers are not close," Martin said quietly.

Quentin looked so crushed and abashed that Newt immediately felt awful. Of course, a young underling impressed by the power of the office. And Theseus always managed to inspire awe. Newt took out his wand and banished the rest of his drink.

"Please forgive me, I think the fizzing whisky didn't agree with me. It's been a long and trying day."

He rose from his seat.

"Bludger, please let me know if you hear of any flats that might suit," he said.

Bludger got up, waving his wand and righting the rest of the furniture the house elf had not yet got to. With another flick the liquor cabinet opened.

"No, please, it's been ages since we've seen you, and my sister made me promise to ask about your next book when I saw you. Sit, we have some first-class gin that's bound to do you good if the fizzing stuff's bothering you."

"Yes, please don't go," said Cyril. "We were all supposed to go to a party tonight, but it's been canceled, so we need to entertain ourselves for the evening."

"Tell us, did you ever find that brain-eating lizard you'd been searching for in Africa?" asked Martin.

Newt hesitated. It would be best to go back to the Leaky Cauldron. Tina ought to be asleep, but surely Queenie had missed him by now. Queenie. His heart sank, thinking of how horrified she'd looked earlier when she'd discovered from the midwife that Tina was pregnant. If he went home now, she was sure to question him about it, and after all that fizzying whisky there was no way he'd be able to hide his complete and utter terror from her. It would be better to wait a while, and sitting with these silly fellows who had no idea of his troubles was a better prospect than pacing around Diagon Alley in the cold and dark.

"Well, perhaps I could stay, just for a moment," Newt said.

"Excellent!" said Bludger, pouring him another drink. "Tell us about your latest travels!"

 _A/N: Here's another full chapter. I hope you enjoy! I will mention that more frequent updates are available if you follow along on tumblr. Thanks so much for reading and especially for commenting!_


	7. Chapter 7

Newt blinked his eyes against the bright light of the drapes being opened onto a sunny day.

He rolled over and pressed his face into the warmth next to him. Newt couldn't recall much of how he'd gotten where he was, but his head was spinning, so he stayed quiet and slowly took stock of his situation. He tried opening his eyes, but that did not go well, as sickness suddenly flooded his gut. So he breathed in and out, gathering what he could without sight to aid him. His cheeks pinked as he realized that the warm figure he was snuggling was definitely Tina. He could tell that from the scent alone. She both smelled and felt very different from every other creature he had ever fallen asleep next to. He had no memory of getting into bed with her, but hopefully she wasn't upset. From the way she had draped her arm across his chest, hope filled him that she had accepted this.

Despite the cozy hopeful feelings, Newt was troubled by a dawning awareness. At first it was just a mild discomfort, but it grew, until it was all he could think about. If Tina was in the bed asleep with him, then who had opened the drapes? Merlin, but he could feel the sunlight creeping past his shut eyelids and burning his brain. It hurt.

"Good," came a high, curt voice.

Newt's eyes sprang open and he gingerly sat up. Tina, not asleep after all, looked up at him from her pillow, quiet but concerned in pajamas and a terrycloth robe. She'd been laying on the bed over the covers while he'd been tucked under them. Newt tried to speak to her, but his throat felt as if a thousand sand snails were scritching around in it.

Queenie stood fully dressed by the window, hand on her hip and tapping the toe of her gold T-strapped shoe against the floorboard. At first glance she seemed nervous, her brow furrowed. Then she saw him looking and straightened, hardening her expression. Newt blinked, and tried for occlumeny. It seemed hopeless. He turned instead to Tina, who was moving from where she'd been lying next to him. She gave him a sad little look, but got up off the bed and stood behind her sister. Newt steeled himself to face Queenie's wrath.

"Where were you last night?" asked Queenie, after a long moment where Newt swore he could feel her tugging at his mental defenses.

Newt's head throbbed, independent of the mental invasion. It turned out that the gin had not been an ideal antidote to the fizzing whisky. Though it had improved his spirits, allowing him to enjoy an evening of games and tall tales, it had left him completely toasted. Ignoring Queenie, he looked to where Tina stood behind her sister. Her hair glistened in the sunlight, and her dark eyes made her skin look milky white. Even in a bathrobe she was beautiful. But he was not to get any sympathy from that quarter either.

"Yeah, where were you?" she echoed, arms crossing over her chest.

They were sisters, after all, and even though Queenie was a little more morally flexible than Tina, they both seemed to draw the line ahead of stumbling home drunk and waking hung-over in a bed he had no business being in.

Newt sighed and hung his head.

"I'm sorry if I inconvenienced you. I…actually don't remember how I ended up in this room. Do you know?"

He finished in a small voice. The realization that he couldn't account for his entrance was a little bewildering.

When he looked up, Tina seemed to be smothering a smile. Newt flushed, but was grateful that she found some humor in the situation. Queenie, however, looked even more furious. She turned, and waved her wand at Tina's toiletry case. Fresh clothes for the day folded themselves up on top.

"Tina, the washroom's down the hall. You'd better get dressed."

"But Queenie—"

"Go!"

Newt thought for sure Tina was going to put up a fight at this treatment, but after a brief flash of anger in her eye she sunk back away from both of them.

Queenie stepped toward her.

"I'm sorry for yelling," she said. "But you and I both know this is serious. There's things you can't remember, and I gotta take care of you. You'd do the same for me, right?"

Tina frowned, but nodded and left the room without looking back to where Newt sat, fully dressed and incredibly rumpled, on the narrow bed. As soon as the door shut Queenie snapped back to Newt.

"And now you, mister. What do you got to say for yourself, coming home drunk and singing like a loon at three in the morning?"

Newt winced. A very hazy picture of this event was forming in his mind. He began to recall pleading with Tina to just let him sleep on the floor next to her. She must have relented and put him in the bed.

"I'm so—so sorry." Newt decided there was nothing for it but to tell her the truth. "I used to room with some fellows that I'd been at school with, and I went to see them to find out about flats."

"Huh. So that's the kind of guys you hung out with?"

"They're not bad chaps. Just a little…rambunctious…"

"You don't have your own place then? We were all so focused on Tina I never really asked where we were going to stay. I guess I trusted that you would have had it figured out." Queenie bit her lip.

Ouch. Newt squirmed at the sting of this comment on his failure as a host and a husband.

"Are we going to stay here over the pub?" she asked.

Newt sighed. He rubbed his temples. Queenie took pity on him and a wave of coolness washed over his muzzy head.

"Oh, thank you," he sighed with relief.

Queenie sniffed.

"It's just so I can get some straight answers out of you. Now tell me straight: what's your plan for finding a place to live while we're here?"

"I…I've been trying to make one. I've got to visit Gringotts, the bank here, and then I'll need to see a few people, and then we can go to Ravi Renfeld's Rentals and see what flats might be available. Aggie's unlikely to turn us out of the Leaky Cauldron right away, but we can't have the—that woman—visiting here."

Queenie nodded slowly, and Newt was certain she understood him but was not yet ready to broach that subject.

"Why can't you just look in the nomaj paper for a place to stay?"

Newt half-smiled. "Would that it were so easy. We have extensive regulations in Britain about the conditions under which witches and wizards can live in muggle areas. Legal residences have to be inspected for muggle-proofing. It would take ages to perform all the charms necessary to fix up a place on our own." He frowned. "And the attendant inspection fees are out of our reach right at the moment. Of course there are plenty of people who just risk it, but under the circumstances that seems like asking for trouble."

"Then where are people supposed to live?" Queenie looked confused. And well she might, since in New York witches and wizards merely fit themselves into houses and flats directly beside their muggle neighbors.

"We have to live in approved Magical Districts. Diagon Alley is the largest of these. But as I learned last night, there's a housing crunch right now."

"Should we go somewhere else?" Queenie asked. "Leave London?"

Newt rubbed his head and got unsteadily to his feet. Queenie's spell had relieved the pain for a few moments, but he could already feel it seeping back.

"I shouldn't like to. Please give me the day, Queenie, and we'll see what's what at the end of it. I'll need to make an appearance at the Ministry when they open up tomorrow, so there's no sense leaving town until I've spoken with the Minister." Newt brightened. "Who knows, perhaps he'll grant us diplomatic housing."

Queenie looked skeptical. Then she shook her head and flicked her wand, straightening the bedsheets and then moving on to his clothes. Her frown deepened, and finally she stopped.

"Newt, did you know? Did you leave me with Tina, knowing that she was gonna have a baby?"

Newt blinked. "No! No, Queenie, you of all people must have seen how shocked I was. I had absolutely no inkling until Healer Lockhart called me back into the examination room and told me yesterday. I would never have kept that from you."

"How should I know? Ever since we got here you've been shutting me out! Even a few times on the steamer over here. Why are you closing off your thoughts if you've got nothing to hide?" Tears were rolling down Queenie's cheeks, and Newt felt awful. He fumbled around in his pocket for a clean handkerchief and passed it to Queenie.

"Oh goodness, no! I had no idea that Tina was—is—" Newt stopped himself and took a deep breath. "I was so surprised you could have knocked me over with a feather. I brought Tina here because I believed we could do something about her memory damage, and if I'd known she was pregnant I would never have suggested experimental treatment. Fortunately Slughorn gave his word that anything he gives her will have no side effects."

Queenie still looked troubled. Newt sighed and dropped back down to sit on the edge of the bed. Wizards had invented many hangover cures, but none that he had ever come across had truly done the job. He wasn't accustomed to heavy drinking, so had never really researched them extensively. Perhaps another hour or two of sleep would do the trick. But Queenie wasn't going to leave until he'd answered her other question. Newt looked up at her.

"It's true that I've been working on improving my occlumency. I can't let you read my thoughts indiscriminately anymore. Before, there was nothing on my mind that I couldn't share with you. Now I see an old schoolmate, or a friend of my parents', and anything I might know about them could filter through my mind, even if it was hearsay, even if it was told to me in confidence. I've asked you in the past to stay out of my thoughts, but you yourself told me it wasn't always possible for you. It's not fair to all those people to air their dirty laundry."

"Air their laundry?" Queenie sounded affronted. "It's just me! It's not like I'm going to tell anybody!"

Her breath caught, and her eyes widened.

"There's something particular, isn't there? It's something about your family."

Newt groaned and rubbed his eyes. Exhausted and hung over was exactly the worst time to be practicing his shoddy occlumency with a natural legillimens. This was going too far. He opened his eyes, and tried to look suitably grave.

"You're not wrong. I'd wager you'll find that most old families here have accrued some motheaten books of secrets they don't want anyone else to know about. My father and now my brother have certain duties that they take very seriously and that involve oaths of secrecy. But none of that's anything to do with me. All I'm sworn to do is act as a redundancy and not tell anybody about it. Honestly, there's absolutely no way that a bunch of outdated state secrets could possibly matter to us here and now in our situation. But at the same time, I've promised not to disclose them."

He shrugged to lighten the moment, but he hoped she realized the awkward position her talents put him in.

Queenie pursed her lips.

"Why don't you wash up? I'll tell Jacob to get ready to go. It's already midmorning, and it sounds like you've got a full day planned."

She bustled around, straightening Tina's suitcase, which had somehow made its way into the room.

Newt dropped back down on the bed, but as soon as he'd closed his tired eyes, Queenie clapped her hands loudly in front of his face.

"Tina's out of the bathroom, so it's your turn. Get up! Time's a-wasting."

Newt tried for his most pitiful kicked-puppy expression, but Queenie only strode out of the door, leaving it conspicuously open. He screwed up all his willpower and got off the bed. There really was a lot to do, and he didn't want to end the day feeling as much of a failure as he did at the moment.

Newt hurried through feeding the creatures that morning, and reappeared downstairs to meet the others for a quick meal, which turned out to be an early luncheon, since he'd slept straight through most of the morning. There was no sign of Aggie, which was unfortunate, since Newt had hoped to ask her about flats to let, and also about any traders in rare creatures who might have come through. The young witch who had initially shown them to their rooms brought out their food and tactfully murmured to Newt that it had been placed on his tab. He could only hope that their rooms for tonight would be included and that by the following morning he'd have enough to pay.

Queenie had been chilly toward Newt and fussy toward Tina, insisting that she eat all of her stew and drink copious amounts of water. She had somehow got hold of the list of instructions that Midwife Moon-Leanfear had given him. Newt cursed himself for piling everything so haphazardly when he'd turned out his pockets. Queenie had now read enough to quote passages directly to her sister. Tina's patience seemed to be wearing thin, but Newt didn't want to start anything with Queenie. It was a relief when they all rose and started out the door toward Gringotts. Jacob was having trouble with the whole concept of a goblin-run bank.

"Are you sure they're gonna be open on a Sunday?" he asked.

"Goblins don't follow the standard Western conventions, so one simply has to learn their ways." Newt hadn't actually learned all that much about goblins, but he did know that their business hours were conveniently later in the day than muggle banks, and that there was no day of the week that did not seem to goblins like a good day of the week for engaging in financial activities.

"Huh," said Tina. "That's the way it was in New York too. Goblins kept to their own calendar, though we never let them get so far as making their own bank! That seems a little risky."

Newt's ears pricked up at this. Tina had done much of her work undercover in goblin-run establishments, making it sound like she was recalling a part of her more recent history. Yet he couldn't afford to get his hopes up every time she uncovered a glimmer of her adult experiences. And honestly, returning memory or not, Newt needed to secure lodgings for all of them, by tomorrow at the earliest. Still, it put him in a better frame of mind. They got to the gleaming columns and ascended into the vast lobby. Newt tried to encourage his friends to look around a bit, but they stuck somewhat annoyingly close. At last when Newt was called up, they gave him a small amount of space.

Newt stepped up alone and handed the key to his vault up to a teller whose nameplate read: Snorkshank, Assistant to the Regulator. After consulting his ledger, the goblin snorted.

"That vault has remained empty for six months now, and has been earmarked for closure. Do you wish to proceed and terminate the account?" asked Snorkshank.

"No! Certainly not," Newt grimaced, ashamed at how far his finances had sunk. He must have wired more funds to the States than he'd realized. He'd been independent from a young age, starting work at the Office for House Elf Relocation after his expulsion in the autumn of his sixth year. He'd sworn then that he would take no further help—that he was going to do things his way or not at all. Yet now, with Tina standing behind him, pregnant with their child, he was willing to swallow his pride and do something that he had never before even considered. He cleared his throat and leaned up to speak directly to the unimpressed Snorkshank.

"Look, I know I haven't applied for it since I've been eligible, but isn't there anything else put aside for me? I believe there is a sum that was kept in trust, but the balance should be available by now." He looked down at his shoes. He had never asked whether or not his parents had changed the terms after his expulsion. He looked back up. "It was there was at one point anyway."

The goblin looked down at Newt through spectacles perched halfway down his exceptionally long nose.

"Hmm." He crossed his arms. "Full name," Snorkshank demanded.

Looking nervously over his shoulder at his friends who were still peering about interestedly, Newt took a step closer until he was pressed right against the high desk. He set his case down.

"Newton Artemis Fido Scamander," he said quickly.

"Eh? What was that?" the goblin asked, holding his hand to his ear impatiently.

"NEWTON ARTEMIS FIDO SCAMANDER," Newt said loudly.

"Scamander? Well, well. Let me look."

The goblin left his seat to go into the back room.

"Fido?" asked Jacob from behind them. "Like, a dog?"

"Uh, I think it means 'faithful'," said Queenie.

"So, like a dog," said Jacob.

Tina sounded puzzled. "Isn't Artemis the goddess of the hunt?" she asked.

"No, I thought she was like, the moon," said Queenie.

"Isn't that Selene?"

"I don't know, I can never remember all that ancient wizarding history stuff," said Queenie.

Newt sighed. While wizards and witches were well known for their eccentric nomenclature when compared with Muggles, from what he'd witnessed the magical community in the States didn't have quite the same flair for the unusual. He pretended not to hear the discussion.

Snorkshank returned after a bit with another huge ledger, secured with a special seal. He called into a trumpet-like instrument by his side for a manager, who finally appeared and pressed a signet ring from around her neck onto the seal.

After paging through the volume for several minutes, Snorkshank spoke.

"Aha. Yes, there is a tidy sum held by the bank for you."

Newt sank a little with relief. His parents hadn't terminated his trust after all. And a tidy sum to a goblin should be quite enough to rent a flat—maybe even enough for a house in the magical quarter.

"But there are a number of contingencies," Snorkshank continued. "Have you reached your twenty-seventh year?"

"Yes," Newt said, hoping he could satisfy all of the contingencies so easily.

"Are you gainfully employed?"

"Yes."

"Have you undergone a major life event within the past six months? Examples include death of a parent, birth of a child, induction into the Order of Merlin, marriage—"

"Ha! Yes! Marriage!"

Snorkshank turned the page and adjusted his spectacles.

"Are your parents living?"

This one shook Newt a little. But surely, he reassured himself, surely someone would have notified him if anything had happened.

"Yes."

Snorkshank's crooked finger slid down on the page. Newt dearly wished he could see it for himself.

"Have you had tea with your mother within the past three months?"

"Um, no."

Snorkshank leaned back and shut the book with a slam. The seal resettled with a swooshing sound.

Newt stared blankly. "But—but I've been out of the country!"

"Sorry, there are no further contingencies. Come back after you can satisfy conditions and we can continue."

"What are the next contingencies?"

Snorkshank snorted.

"Nice try, boyo. You only learn them once you get through them. That's how it works for everyone."

Newt ran his hands through his hair. So close—he'd been so close!

"Any further business?" Snorkshank asked.

"No," Newt said morosely.

"Next!" called Snorkshank.

Newt took up his case and slunk outside, not waiting for the others. He had leaned his face against the freezing marble of a column when Jacob approached.

"Hey buddy, cheer up. I don't understand what all those questions were about, but a little tea can't be so bad, right? If you need money in the meantime, I brought a little for travel expenses—"

Newt straightened. He smiled ruefully at his friend.

"The exchange rate for muggle money is awful right now. Let's save it for emergencies." He dusted of his coat and hefted his case. They rejoined Tina and Queenie who had been standing a little to the side. Newt smiled reassuringly.

"This was just the first stop. I've got a few more prospects to explore before the day is through," he said. "Let's get started."

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of activity. Newt had a few more easily-harvested potion ingredients prepared to sell at Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary and a couple of rare birds that the proprietors of Eeylops Owlery dealt in on the side. While Newt was nowhere near the sum he'd hoped to have by the end of the day, he had enough sickles and knuts rattling in his pockets to send Jacob Queenie and Tina to Tierney's Tea Shoppe while he went and had a quick look-in at the rental agency.

Since it was a Sunday, there was no one in Ravi Renfeld's Rental Office, but still Newt stepped up to the plate glass window covered in adverts, waved his wand, and inquired aloud about the property that Bludger had mentioned the night before. The printed notices rearranged themselves to give him the information he sought. The pictures of the interior looked lovely, showing a large living space and three bedrooms. Newt scanned the notice for the price. His stomach dropped when he saw it. Forty galleons! Per month! Newt tried not to gnaw on the tip of his wand in agitation. That place must be a palace! He quickly tried to guess how much Bludger, Martin and the others were paying for a place with an additional room. Far more than his pitiful salary could ever support, that's for certain.

Newt walked back up to Diagon Alley from the rental agency toward the tea shop, but was surprised by Aggie, who shouted him down as he passed the Leaky Cauldron.

"I have the money," he blurted. "For the rooms."

Aggie waved this off.

"I'm glad to hear it. But I've had some late additions to a party that's here for a special meeting. I'll be needing those rooms you're in vacated in the morning. There's some sort of love potion conference, and I've got witches from every corner of the globe arriving tomorrow expecting lodging for their whole party. I've had to do a temporary expansion charm, and goodness knows what I'll do if it doesn't hold."

Newt started to protest—to beg for a cupboard to put his case in at least—but Aggie stopped herself.

"But that's not what I wanted to tell you. Tunsten Tuggley was in today. He said he'd heard that you turned up and he wanted to see you about acquiring some rare stock. He seemed very pleased to hear you were about."

Newt wrinkled his nose. Tunsten Tuggley was a rare animal dealer that he'd done business with once or twice in the past. Since Newt prized conservation over profit, he didn't generally have much to say to the man. But he'd spent a frustrating day scrounging for cash, and now they were about to be turned out of the Leaky Cauldron, so it would be foolish to let this opportunity pass him by.

"Well, I guess I'd better see what he wants then. Did he say where to find him?"

"He said he'd be back later on this evening."

"All right. I'll be in shortly."

Newt went to collect Tina, Queenie, and Jacob from Tierney's. He looked longingly at the extradimensional cream puffs—more filling that you expect!—but decided to wait until later to eat. He'd do better to conserve all their funds if they were going to have to scrounge for lodging the following day.

His friends had settled down into a corner table of the shop where Jacob and Queenie sat with empty teacups before them. Tina was frowning at her water glass and looking a little less present than she'd been for most of the past two days. Newt sat next to her.

"Everything all right, Tina?" he asked.

She looked at him, startled by his sudden appearance. The blank look slowly faded. "There you are. These guys said we were waiting for you to tell us where we're gonna be living."

Newt tugged at his hair and tried to stop himself biting his lip.

"Well, for tonight we'll be once again at the Leaky Cauldron. But in the morning I'll go to see the Minister of Magic, and he'll have to offer us some place to stay since you're here from MACUSA."

Queenie raised her eyebrows skeptically, and Newt felt a little hot under the collar at this lie. The fact of the matter was, their housing was his responsibility, not the Ministry's. If worst came to worst, could he and Queenie muggle-proof some empty garret someplace? With all the research he'd done on his case, Newt felt pretty confident in his spatial manipulation charms. But that wouldn't fool Jane Moon-Leanfear, would it? She'd certainly disapprove of an illegal residence.

Newt swallowed. The Minister would have to give them housing. Even if just for Tina, then perhaps they could prop his case in the corner. Newt would make him see that it was the safest option. And if it was only temporary, well, Newt supposed that he could nip away for tea with his mother without too much trouble. Maybe he'd get lucky and that would be the last condition. He could of course ask his mother, who likely set all the contingencies in the first place, but that might lead to some conversations too uncomfortable to be had over a friendly cup of tea.

As they walked back toward the Leaky Cauldron a light rain began to fall, and Queenie hurried Tina back inside. Newt raised his wand like an umbrella, and with a quiet enlargement spell had Jacob under it as well.

"What should we be doing while you're at the Ministry tomorrow?" Jacob asked. "We could go look at some apartments, if you want."

Newt sighed.

"No. I'll try not to be too long. You probably shouldn't come to the Ministry with me. If President Picquery made Tina sound like some sort of hidden Grindelwald plot it will be safer for her to be well away from the Minister. But there's no point in looking at the realtor's. Everything posted for Diagon Aleley and the surrounding districts is well beyond our means. No, by the end of the interview with the Minister I'll know more about where we'll be staying. One way or another. You all can wait here."

They entered the Leaky Cauldron, and joined a couple of elderly witches at the bar. Queenie must have taken Tina upstairs, which was just as well. Newt might have turned in early himself if he hadn't needed to wait up for Tuggley to return. He placed his case by his feet and sighed, finally turning his attention to the conversation that Jacob was having with the two old ladies about the benefits of marigold versus calendula for skin ailments. Newt found this more interesting than he had expected, and the time passed easily. Despite his best efforts, there were parts of his case that hadn't got the ideal climate down, and some creatures, like Dugal had free rain of the place and the variation in humidity could be very tough on their skin.

After a time, somebody nudged Newt. Aggie, who had been collecting used glasses, muttered, "There he is."

And sure enough, Tunsten Tuggley was shouldering through the door, his great coat dripping with rain. Tuggley looked the sort of man that most witches and wizards thought of when they imagined someone who dealt with magical creatures for a living. He was a tall, broad bloke with chin length unkempt hair and a chestplate of dragon hide over his robes. A patch over one eye hid part of a deep scar that ran down his cheek. The gloves he wore were practically gauntlets, and he carried an iron-tipped staff.

Newt took up his case and moved away from the bar, motioning for Jacob to stay where he was. As soon as Tuggley saw him, or more accurately the case he carried, a broad grin stretched over his blocky features. Newt indicated a table, a little out of the way, and sat down at it, willing away all his discomfort and fidgets. He would treat Tuggley like a bull erumpent, something that could only be soothed with self-assurance, and that could never be trusted not to charge when one's back was turned.

"I heard tell you've got some stock you might want someone to take off yer hands," he said, sitting down. "And I happen to be in a position to buy sommat." He leaned forward eagerly. "What've yeh got?"

Newt frowned and sat back in his chair. He'd made deals with such people before, but he had almost always been the buyer. Still, he knew to start small.

"I have a half-dozen billiwigs that I might be able to offer to the right person."

Tuggley grunted and frowned.

"That's not what I'm after. I'm lookin for somethin' quite a bit larger than that." He reached within his robes and hauled out a fat purse. He loosened it so that

Newt could see the contents. Merlin, it was full of gold!

Newt's stomach twisted. There on the table sat enough galleons that he and Tina could rent that Diagon Alley flat across from Bludger and have enough left over to decorate a nursery or six. Yet if Tuggley was flashing him that much, he surely had his sights set on something Newt did not want to sell.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tuggley, but if you're looking for a hippogryph or a winged racehorse you'd better try my mother," Newt said. Those were the only legitimate purchases one could make with that much gold.

"I do hear she breeds the finest Aethonans in Britain," Tuggley said, "But I'm after something even more rare."

He leaned forward, excitement creasing his sunburnt features. "Seems the potions makers have gone through most of their stores of graphorn horn. But the silly buggers didn't seem to realize that there have to be graphorns to grow the horn in the first place, and there's no more of em."

"How very nearsighted of them," Newt said.

"Huh. But I did hear that there were some graphorns left. And that you could get me one."

Alarm bells were going off in Newt's head. How would Tunsten Tuggley have found out about his graphorns? And worse, he wanted one.

"One? How would that solve the dilemma of no more graphorns?"

Tuggley's expression turned shifty. "I'm only interested in a female, see. Gonna start mesself a graphorn farm."

Newt raised an eyebrow. If Tuggley really did have a male graphorn, selling him a female would increase the gene pool. It would be important that graphorns get back out there in the world before they lost their instincts. But somehow Tuggley did not seem like the ideal man for the job.

"I heard that you prefer to keep your hand in many different projects, Mr. Tuggley."

"Oh I'm all in for this one Mr. Scamander," he said.

Newt did not like the look of the gleam in Tuggley's eye, and was all set to refuse his offer, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tina and Queenie descend the stair. Tina looked through the thin crowd, mostly witches arrived early for the Potions convention, until she saw him. She started toward him, but he shook his head slightly. Tuggley caught the movement and turned.

"Is that the little missus?" he asked. "You'll be needing to set yerselve up somewhere decent, now you've got a wife to think about. How about it, Scamander?"

He rattled the purse. Newt frowned coldly. Tina really did need looking after, more than Tuggley knew, and it was his duty to do so.

"I might have access to what you're after. But the female would not be ready to breed for at least three years yet. Would you swear to wait that long?"

Tuggley grinned, showing all his teeth. "I've been waiting many years for such a rare beast to come my way, I can wait a little longer for a profit," he said.  
Newt forced himself to keep eye contact with Tuggley. The man flinched slightly. Not a good sign. Tuggley stood to make piles upon piles of gold breeding graphorns rather than butchering one small female. Logically he should be telling the truth. Still, this did not feel good to Newt. But how could he be sure?

A hand touched his shoulder, and Newt started. Tina leaned over him, and whispered in his ear. A shiver went down his back at the feel of her warm breath on his neck, but then her words registered.

Newt rose from his seat, case in hand.

"Sorry, Mr. Tuggley. It turns out I don't have what you're looking for after all. Good evening."

Newt offered his arm to Tina, who took it and swept up the stairs with him, leaving Tuggley spluttering at the table.

They met Queenie and Jacob up in the room.

"Thank you Tina, Queenie," said Newt. "It's true that we need the money, but I couldn't forgive myself—"

"He was gonna chop up Princess!" Queenie said indignantly. She had named all the graphorn pups, but Princess, the only female, was particularly close to her heart.

"He didn't have a male graphorn," Tina explained. "He was lying. He just caught the apothecary saying he would trade his whole stock of unicorn tails for a quart of graphorn horn, and realized he could make a buck."

Newt shook his head, still mystified. "But how did he find out about the graphorns in the first place?"

Queenie winced and looked over to Jacob.

"I'm so sorry—we were having lunch, and Queenie and I were talking about Princess. An old lady overheard and asked us if we were talking about hippos—hip—"

"Hippogyphs," Queenie supplied.

"But I said no, they were called graphorns. And her eyes got big but she stopped talking and went back to the table with all her friends. She seemed like a nice old lady, I wouldn't have thought she'd do anything awful…" Jacob trailed off.

Newt sighed shortly and paced over to the window. He turned and looked back at Tina and Queenie who were sitting on one of the beds, and at Jacob who was standing near Queenie.

"She probably was, and probably didn't. But, as I've been trying to impress on Queenie, people talk here."

"There's plenty of gossip back home in New York!" Queenie said.

"Yes, but you know, for the most part, what's all right to discuss and what's not. If you don't know the state of the wizarding world here one slip of the tongue could destroy a breeding project—or worse."

He looked at Tina desperately. "You know that President Picquery thought something was off about Tina's attack. If anyone got wind of this—especially before I have the chance to tell our side of the story to the Minister—it could be disastrous."

He sat heavily on the vacant bed.

Queenie spoke up.

"That's why you've got to tell us, who can we trust, what can we talk about, that kind of thing."

Newt looked up.

"For the next few days, the answer to that is nobody and nothing. I'm sorry, but that's how it must be."

-o-o-o-

Newt stood outside the Minister of Magic's private office. Since the entire Ministry was below-ground, they had managed to give the Minister's office some import by placing it on a mezzanine so that it looked out over the lobby, with its bustling crowds flowing past the impressive group of statues that made up the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Newt nervously shuffled through the papers that he'd brought from New York.

President Picquery had told him that she would be making an appointment for him with the Minister, something that was half-courtesy, half-threat, since she was determined that he fully disclose Tina's circumstances. It wasn't that Newt couldn't understand the importance of the situation. If the Ministry of Magic were to claim that MACUSA had hidden a potential threat from them, it could cause upheaval in the international wizarding community. But all Newt wanted at this point was a quiet address from which to send an owl to their terrifying midwife, and to receive an owl bearing some assurance from Slughorn that he'd have something for them at their next appointment.

The Minister of Magic had the power to provide this. Newt had actually worked under three Ministers. The second, Lorcan McLaird, had been his favorite by far but he unfortunately had rubbed everyone else the wrong way with his preference for nonverbal communication. Newt could have counted on McLaird to understand his position. Unfortunately, this Minister talked exponentially more, and was consequently exponentially harder for Newt to read.

Hector Fawley was widely beloved, particularly by the witches in the Ministry, who were always coming up with excuses to go up to the mezzanine where his office was located. He'd taken office while Newt was away traveling, and Newt had only had a few encounters with Fawley while back in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures before leaving again to see to the situation in New York.

It had actually been Newt's Uncle Ashley, an Auror turned bureaucrat in the Department of International Affairs, who had approved his absences. Newt could never appeal to him, however. After hearing the extent of the situation Ashley Waverly would send Newt directly home to his sister, and worse, make it an official order. Hopefully the Minister would be easier to get round.

"Mister Fawley will see you now, Mr. Scamander," said Ripley, the sober wizard that had been at the desk out front far longer than Newt had been at the Ministry. Ripley always wore black, and his thinning white hair was worn long in a queue down his back. Newt sometimes wondered exactly how long Ripley had been with the Ministry. It wouldn't have surprised him if he'd been there since the Middle Ages.

Newt entered the Minister's office. It was brightly lit and festooned with bright red drapes. The carpeting, Newt could see as he stepped further in, was a rather bold rendering of the Union Jack. He hid a grimace as the Minister looked up from his desk. Fawley had wavy dark hair that was at the point of beginning to recede, and bright blue eyes that sparkled when he laughed, which was a little too often for Newt's taste.

"Ah, Scamander the Younger!" he said cheerfully, leaping up from his desk and shaking Newt's hand. "Or should I say Scamander the Youngest?"

"I do have a younger sister at home, sir," Newt said.

Hector Fawley laughed, his white teeth gleaming in the brightness of the room. "Why yes, but who knows how much longer she'll bear the name, eh?"

Despite the importance of making a good impression, Newt could not bring himself to laugh this off. Counting the years rapidly in his head, Newt realized with some dismay that Salsify was not at all too young to be married. And he would have no way of knowing if she was attached. Newt hadn't seen her in over a year, though she at least had warranted (sometimes very belated) birthday gifts and sporadic letters.

Fawley seemed to have noticed Newt's distress, and hastened to change the subject.

"Ripley tells me we've received word that President Picquery of MACUSA had you bring an injured auror here for treatment."

"Yes, sir."

Newt held out the thick stack from MACUSA. Hector Fawley looked at it in dismay and did not reach for it.

"That's…quite a lot of parchment," he said, taking a step back.

"Paper, sir. They use paper in the States."

"Do they really? How muggle-like of them. In any event, as an agent of the Ministry of Magic, surely you can summarize all that for me, Scamander."

Newt frowned.

"It's a complex case, sir."

Fawley walked around his desk and sat back down in his large swivel chair.

"Sit down and begin, please," he said, steepling his fingers in front of him.

Newt eyed the plush red chair that Fawley had indicated, and decided to stand. He opened the first folder, wincing as it contained the photographs of Tina's injuries. This would not go well if he couldn't get himself under control.

Newt cleared his throat and began. "Porpentina Scamander was attacked on October the third in the section of the city of New York known as Red Hook, Brooklyn, a primarily industrial neighborhood. She had found a lead regarding—"

"Wait! Did you say Scamander?"

Fawley leaned forward. "I had heard a rumor, but I thought it was people making assumptions. You really did marry this injured auror? Theseus assured me it was all a misunderstanding—"

Newt clenched his jaw. This was exactly none of Theseus' business, but it would not do to let himself get agitated. If Newt was trying to use his family's influence to get diplomatic housing it would be counterproductive to show just how great a rift there was between himself and his brother.

"Tina and I had been married for not quite one month when she was attacked while on duty."

"Well, well."

Fawley raised a thick black eyebrow. Newt returned to the folder in his hands.

"The attack took place in the evening hours, and the auror was found injured physically and mentally, likely several blows to the head with a blunt instrument and a rudimentary obliviate spell. The physical wounds were easily mended, but her memory has been badly damaged."

"How much was lost?" asked Fawley.

"Her memory was not just lost…" Newt said. "But damaged. Years have completely disappeared, and she's not always aware of her surroundings."  
Fawley frowned sympathetically. "I am most sorry to hear that. Puts rather a damper on celebrations. I can see why you weren't eager to make the announcement."

Newt refrained from pointing out that he was completely uninterested in everyone else's opinion of his marital state, regardless of Tina's health. At the same time, however, it made him feel vaguely guilty that he had come off as secretive about it. He wasn't ashamed that she was injured. Had he made Tina feel like he was unhappy about telling others?

"It's not just her injury that has led me to keep our journey quiet. If you would read the briefing from President Picquery—" Newt held out the paper in question.

The Minister looked at him blandly, and Newt gave up and began summarizing.

"Tina had been investigating the disappearance of a muggle reporter who had stumbled across the activity of some Grindelwald supporters—possibly even Gellert Grindelwald himself."

"Come now, Scamander. Let's not give one rogue wizard so much credit. Didn't you yourself easily apprehend him in New York two years ago? He's likely holed up somewhere with his tail between his legs, turning his thought to other matters than stirring up trouble with muggles. Maybe he should take a page out of your book and get married, eh?"

Fawley let out a guffaw, and summoned a goblet filled with something fizzy.

"Fizzing pumpkin juice, Scamander?" he offered. Newt shook his head.

"Well, this is dashed unfortunate. I'm quite sorry for you. Please leave any official correspondence with Ripley, and let your Department Head you've returned."

Fawley took a sip of his drink and was turning back to the sports section of the Daily Prophet which lay open on his desk. Sensing he was losing his audience, Newt launched into his request before he could be dismissed.

"There is the matter, sir, of where we'll stay. I had first assumed that Tina would be staying in long-term care at St. Mungo's, but the healers there would prefer that she have a more stable homelike environment. Since we are here at the behest of President Picquery of MACUSA, it seems appropriate that Tina and her sister, also a MACUSA envoy, be housed in one of the diplomatic suites."

Fawley pushed back from his desk a bit and laughed awkwardly. "Oh I don't think you'd want her there, at the moment."

"Why not?"

"You've said that President Picquery seems to think that this has something to do with Grindelwald. I don't agree that he's such a serious threat to us all as all that, but just in case, your uncle has specially requested a delegation from Grindelwald's last known whereabouts in Hungary. They're staying at the Grimmsley Square residence now. But if you think you'd like to share the space…"

"No! Of course not." Newt tried to hide his crippling disappointment. He'd been counting on maneuvering the Minister into giving them lodgings, but being constantly reminded of her attack would be the worst possible thing for Tina while she tried to recover.

"There you are then," said Fawley, his gaze wandering over to the large window that looked out on the lobby. "It would be best for you to take her home."

""You don't mean—Sir, Blethering House is simply not suited—"

"On the contrary, your family home is ideal, Scamander! Fresh, clean air, plenty of ladies to fuss over your wife. It'll keep her out of the hustle and bustle here, and it'll be easy enough to commute for your appointments."

"Commute?" Newt sounded distressed. "I don't know if broom travel—"

"Broom travel? Not at all! Broom travel is no longer recommended for anyone without an invisibility charm. Your brother has been commuting from Blethering House via the new and expanded portal system. We're calling it the Floo Network. It's being rolled out bit by bit to combat some of the housing difficulties we've been having lately."

Newt's heart sank into his stomach.

"Theseus has been commuting, from Blethering house? And my father permitted this?"

Fawley looked at Newt sharply.

"Your father has retired. Theseus is now the Lord Warden. I've spoken to him recently and I know he too feels all this worry about Grindelwald is overblown. I'm sure he, like the rest of your family will be pleased to have you back at home, and charmed to meet your new wife as well."

If Fawley only knew. Newt was fleetingly glad that Queenie was not here, as it had become impossible not to think loudly about just what his reception would be at home.

"I don't think Blethering would be the best place for Tina—"

"Nonsense! It's the only thing to do. I'll have Ripley send President Picquery a notice of where to reach her auror."

Before Newt could find a response, Fawley clapped his hands.

"Very well. I'll look forward to seeing whether or not our healers can mend your wife. If they do, I'll be interested in hearing just what it was that attacked her. Most likely some young miscreants lacking the proper finesse for a real memory charm. You may of course have the rest of the week off to settle her in and spend time with your family. We'll see you first thing next Monday."

Newt gritted his teeth at the thought that Tina could have been overpowered by anything less than a serious threat. He tried to remind himself that the Minister had just given his approval for Tina to be treated at St. Mungo's, and that they were lucky to have it.

"Thank you Minister," he managed, bowing formally and retreating swiftly from the office.

"Mr. Waverly asked if he might have a word, Mr. Scamander," Ripley said, appearing at Newt's elbow.

"It will have to wait, Ripley. The Minister has asked me…I have some things I must take care of first." Newt couldn't believe he was actually contemplating doing what he'd sworn never to do. He'd practically been ordered to go home. He'd rather not see Uncle Ashley and make it official. "I'll be back in the office next Monday. I'll see Mr. Waverly then."

"Very well, Mr. Scamander." Newt could feel Ripley's disapproval, but could not bring himself to care. There was too much else vying for attention in his mind.

-o-o-o-

Once Newt left the Ministry, it took just a few short hops to apparate back to one of the rooms in the Leaky Cauldron. Mercifully there was no one around, allowing Newt a moment alone with his thoughts. He looked out of the window. The ordinary bustle of Diagon Alley below somehow made him feel more alone than ever. He pressed his forehead to the glass and closed his eyes.

"I've let you down, Tina," Newt murmured.

"How have you let me down?" Newt jumped back from the window. He looked all around him and realized that Tina had been curled up on the floor in the small space between the bed and the wall. She was reading a stack of parchment that Newt recognized from their meeting with the midwife.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there."

"But you were talking to me."

"No, I was talking to…" Newt suddenly choked on his words. How could he tell Tina that he was talking to a version of herself that was gone? Tina was right before him, yet part of him was grieving her as if she had died. Would he ever manage to connect with Tina again?

"You were talking to her, then. The other me, right?" Tina looked very young and very unsure as she said this.

Newt sighed and sat down on the floor in front of her.

"That's one way to put it."

"How did you fail?" she asked.

"I was unable to get the Minister to offer us housing," Newt said. He didn't want to burden Tina with this, but he was running out of options. Perhaps they could leave London and find another inn?

"Oh." Tina chewed on her lip. "So he's just going to leave us with no place to go? That's awful. I remember when Queenie and I got out of school that first year after our grandparents died. We went to their house, but my aunt had sold it. It was such a terrible feeling."

"Oh Tina," Newt said, stretching out a tentative hand toward her. "It's not going to be like that. And the Minister didn't think he was putting us out on the streets. He believed we had another option."

"Do we?"

Tina looked up at him with her wide dark eyes, and even though Newt knew that he should be the one taking care of her, the one taking responsibility off her shoulders, she looked so like herself that he started talking.

"The minister, and Aggie, and everyone else I've talked to seems to think the only thing to do is to take you straight back to my parents' house. I never considered doing so, I thought we'd find other accommodations. But everything I've looked into has failed to pan out. I'm so sorry."

"Would it be so bad then, staying with your parents?"

Newt ran both his hands through his hair until it fluffed out around his head like a demented halo.

"Yes. No. I don't know. You see, it's been quite some time since I've actually seen them, and we did not part on good terms."

"Was it—was it about getting married to me?" Tina asked this in a small voice. She looked up at his face, then away toward the window and went on in a rush.

"Because I've been getting the picture that they don't like me very much. That Slug guy said that they won't like the way I dress, and that lady at the customs office said your mother would be shocked…"

"No, Tina it was nothing whatsoever to do with you. It was about family matters that had absolutely nothing to do with you or our relationship. If you must know, it was about my brother. My father insisted on retiring early, and handing the official parts of his job over to Theseus, which is completely backwards. And then they said that if I disagreed I'd need to move back home, and I simply couldn't. That was asking too much of me."

"But they wanted you, at home?"

Newt frowned. "They claimed to. But they were desperate. I don't think they realized what they were asking."

"But this is a different circumstance. Are they mad that we got married? Did you tell them about—about the baby?"

Tina chewed on her lip. Newt's heart ached at how vulnerable she looked. He wanted to protect her from all these upsetting scenarios, but he resolved to honestly answer her questions.

"I…had not yet informed them of our marriage before you were attacked. And I confess my mind has been on other matters since then." Newt could not quite confess that he'd been actively avoiding it. "And no one knows about the baby. Please, don't say anything yet unless you have to. I'd like to figure out what we're going to do first."

Tina scooted closer to him on her knees so that they were almost touching in front of the window. "I've been hoping that we can be in one place for a while. Jane made a note that it might be helpful for me to write things down, and that being in one place would make it easier to focus on little changes."

Newt raised an eyebrow. "Jane?"

Tina smiled at his skepticism. "She's really nice. She wrote right here that I can call her Jane." Tina pointed to a page.

"And how am I supposed to address her?" asked Newt.

Tina laughed, and Newt was very pleased to hear the sound. It had been too long.

"She doesn't say!"

"Well I like that," huffed Newt. "I bet I've caught more babies than she has anyway. Did you know that the Noalper fish gives birth to over a thousand eggs at once?"

"I thought fish laid eggs."

"They do, but the female Noalper deposits the eggs inside a special gestational sac in the male's abdomen from which the young emerge once they've hatched."

Tina looked both repulsed and intrigued. "So you're counting watching while thousands of baby fish pop out of their daddy's belly?"

Newt crossed his arms. "I don't see why not. Reproduction mostly takes care of itself without any need for intervention."

"All the same, I'm glad to have someone who knows about human babies." Tina looked down at the stack of parchment in her hands. "Jane noted on here that we should tell her today when and where to make our next appointment."

"Oh heavens, you're right." Newt tipped his head against the wall and closed his eyes. "There's nothing for it, we're going to have to go to Blethering. Heaven knows what Mother will say about all this. And Theseus is apparently also living at home. Merlin, this is a bad idea."

"Can you think of any other way out?"

Newt thought, long and hard. They could not stay at the Leaky Cauldron because Aggie needed their rooms. They could not afford a flat in Diagon Alley. The diplomatic housing was full up with spies reporting on Grindelwald, and to top it all off, the Minister of Magic himself could tell Theseus at any moment that they were expected at Blethering House. The only way to retain any control whatsoever would be to get in before Theseus and have the opportunity to present his own case to his mother.

"No. Please pack up and get your jacket, we'll be leaving in a moment," Newt said.

"Can I have my wand?" Tina asked.

"You'll have to ask Queenie," he said. "But I don't see why not."


	8. Chapter 8

Jacob and the Goldstein sisters had been somewhat bemused to find themselves side-along apparated out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the upper chamber of the House of Lords. Even though the Americans did not know the function it fulfilled in government, the setting, even deserted, was extremely impressive. The dark wood and cavernous room somehow managed to echo their movements despite the plush blue and gold carpeting. Newt hurried them out of the grand chamber. In a small room off an upstairs corridor, a log set in a large fireplace burst into flame as they entered the room.

"It's enchanted," Newt said, since everyone looked a little apprehensive. "It won't hurt you in the slightest."

Indeed, Newt stepped right up into the flames, and held out his hand for Tina. She gingerly joined him. Queenie followed her sister until only Jacob stood, looking very uncomfortable on the faded but once glorious carpet, halfway between the door and the fire. He looked like he was considering taking his chances in muggle London.

"Please, Jacob, just trust me," Newt said soothingly. "It won't hurt you either, and then we'll all link arms, and the transport can take effect."

Jacob reluctantly took Newt's offered hand and they all linked arms, forming a close square with Queenie facing Newt. Newt was crunched and crowded by his case and his friends, but finally managed to get his wand free and exclaim, "Donecio!"

A flash of green engulfed them, and the next thing any of them saw was streaks of bluish light coming through the tighly drawn shades of a small room. Newt let go of Tina and Jacob and stowed his wand. He stepped out of the fireplace and as he did wall sconces filled with candles flared to life.

"Is this your house?" Tina asked, looking decidedly unimpressed. The dust hung heavy off of some old sheet-covered furniture, and some rickety stools were pulled up to a decaying wooden bar on the far side of the room. Newt laughed nervously.

"No. It's the old member's room of the village pub. At some point in the distant past, a Scamander must have built them a new one so we could use this one without any trouble."

Newt nodded back at the fireplace they'd come through, which was carved from stone in the shape of two dragons facing outward, their mouths smiling wide to show rows of sharp teeth. Their tails curled up and around to form the mantle of the fireplace.

"Usually we apparate to the gates from here," he said, moving to a door beside the bar, half-hidden by a moldering tapestry covered in fleur-de-lis and swords, "but I thought you all might like to see the village."

Newt swung open the door, and Tina, followed closely by Jacob and Queenie, stepped blinking into the midday sun. Tina looked around, confused, at the quaint thatched roofs and the wattle and daub of the walls.

"Are we—is this now?" she asked.

Just then, a motor car beeped its horn, and they all stepped back from the roadway for it to pass. Several men from the pub left from the main entrance, above which was a very worn sign proclaiming it "The Dancing Pig." They were dressed for work in the fields, but in modern attire nonetheless.

"Good day, sir," said one of them politely to Newt. "Back from your travels at last?"

"Oh, um, yes. Just returned" Newt reached back in his mind for the appropriate name. "Good day to you Mister Combley."

The farmers looked curiously at the others, nodded amongst themselves and headed back down the lane to their work.

"Wait—were those wizards?" Jacob asked incredibly.

"Just simple farmers," Newt said, trying to hurry them all along. The village was picturesque, but Newt had somehow forgotten that as well as the charming tumbledown architecture and well-maintained stone walls there were people to navigate as well. With a legilimens among their number, meeting the wrong townsperson could be dangerous indeed.

"Well, that's the village," Newt said, holding out his arm for them to apparate with him.

Tina crossed her arms over her chest.

"I thought we were going to walk," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," said Queenie, challengingly.

Newt blew out a breath. "Very well then," he said, setting a brisk pace. "Come along then. It's a bit of a walk."

It was not actually far as the crow flew, but Newt was unwilling for them to walk past the post-office with its eagle-eyed postmistress or the school with its small flock of curious children, so he marched them all down the dusty lane the farmers had used. It was a narrow track, certainly not wide enough for two lane traffic, and flanked by low stone walls capped on both sides by tall hedgerows. Once they'd gone round a curve and could no longer see the village square behind them, Newt abruptly turned off and climbed a small section of wall. He disappeared through a gap in the hedge.

"Well, come on," he said impatiently. It would be best to get them all off the road and into the woods as quickly as possible. And then out of the woods, since the forest had its own perils.

"Okay, okay," said Queenie, scrambling up with Jacob's help. Newt steeled his heart to her difficulty. He had not advised her to wear such impractical shoes, and she was a witch, after all. It would be the work of a moment to transfigure them into something more suitable to the terrain.

"Well, that's the first clear thought I've got from you in days," said Queenie snippily, her high heels melting into thick-soled climbing boots. Jacob rolled his eyes dramatically. Tina laughed a little, and Newt smiled over his shoulder at her, grateful for the small break in the tension. This was going to be very uncomfortable, and most likely painful, but it wouldn't help anyone if Newt alienated his friends. They were the reason he was back here, after all. He needed to listen to them, and communicate what he could, even if he didn't want to.

They emerged into a hayfield, long since harvested. A few bales were still standing guard at the edges of the field, waiting to be taken in for winter fodder. Newt looked around, and seeing it was all suitably deserted, dug in his pocket for a small silver flute. He blew a few shrill notes, and was rewarded by the sight of two hippogriffs swooping down on them from some low cloud cover. The tawny one Newt knew well, but he'd never seen the silver and black one before. She was slightly smaller, but had a sharp well-formed beak, and piercing golden eyes. She landed shoulder to shoulder with the tawny.

Newt grinned.

"This is Corwin and his lovely lady who I have not yet met. Please stay back until I can introduce you." He motioned all the humans to take a step backward.

Newt set his case down and performed an elaborate courtly bow. The tawny bowed back deeply. Newt waited until the female bobbed her head, and then he rushed forward to wrap his arms around Corwin.

"Who's the loveliest hippogriff in the whole world?" Newt crooned. Corwin huffed in embarrassment, but Newt knew him well enough to know he was pleased by the attention. Corwin nodded toward the female.

"Ah yes, I can see that Mother has been hard at work finding a suitable mate for the pride of the flock."

Newt again bowed deeply at the smaller hipporgriff. She inclined her head and advanced on him, showing him the gold filigree chain around her neck. It was far too delicate to be functional as reins, but it bore a rectangular charm, upon which the name "Silvana" was engraved.

"Pleased to meet you Silvana. Mother must have had to sell off half the herd of winged horses to get anywhere near you. But you know how she favors the hippogriffs."

Corwin and Silvana bobbed their heads in pleased acknowledgment of their superiority in the eyes of their mistress.

"Please allow me to introduce my companions. This is Queenie, and Jacob."

Following Newt's jerk of the head and the hand gesture behind his back they awkwardly performed a version of his bow.

Corwin and Silvana must have been feeling charitable, because they bowed back.

"And this is Tina," Newt felt somewhat embarrassed, but if he were being completely honest, he was more concerned with Corwin's opinion of his wife than many of his other family members. Tina bowed, not trying for any flourishes, but sincere all the same.

Newt needn't have worried. The hippogriffs both bowed back deeply. Then Corwin stretched out his wings and gave a shriek that alarmed Jacob, who had only interacted with the injured hippogriff in Newt's case. The tawny beast hopped forward and butted Newt with his head affectionately.

Newt beamed. He knew Tina was the witch for him, but he'd been somewhat concerned that her injury would alarm the hippogriffs the way it had apparently troubled Ethel the Erumpent. It was gratifying to see Corwin so approving. Silvana stepped up to Tina and elegantly bowed again, offering her a wing to mount. Newt hurried over to help her up.

"Queenie, why don't you sit behind Tina since Silvana is offering, and Jacob and I will go with Corwin. Two humans should be alright for a short flight. I promise, this is the absolute best way to see the scenery."

Corwin huffed in amusement as Jacob rigidly seated himself behind Newt.

"Y-you're sure this is safe?" he asked Newt under his breath. Newt reflected that it certainly would be safer if he were not using one of his hands to clutch the case in his lap, but he couldn't say that to Jacob.

"Chin up, Jacob. You don't want to insult Corwin do you?"

"No, no way. I definitely do not want to do that—" he was cut off as Corwin started forward, spread his wings, and leapt into the sky.

Silvana followed, giving a joyous shriek.

The hippogriffs circled up and around, gaining altitude. Now the fields were turning to patchwork squares on the quilt of countryside blanketing the wilds of the Lake District. Newt turned his head and shouted to Jacob.

"This is some of the last undeveloped land in England. There are higher peaks in Scotland, just to the north," Newt pointed off to their left. "But Scaffel Pike is the highest in England." The rocky crag rising above the cresting hills below looked impressive in the cold December air. "There are countless small lakes, and over twenty that are substantial. Some of them are quite deep—some deep enough to house some very interesting magical creatures!"

Jacob didn't give any indication of hearing Newt, so he decided to wait to tell the story of the crab he'd caught on holiday and enchanted to be able to live in the freshwater of the lakes. Last anyone had seen of it it had grown to nearly two meters in width and it had begun to venture onto land in search of food. Newt hoped his parents hadn't done anything rash.

The crystal blue of the lakes was vivid, even though the day was cold and slightly grey. The deciduous trees had lost their leaves and the migratory birds were all long gone. Still, seeing it from up here Newt felt something he hadn't before, a sense of nostalgia for his childhood. Before he'd entered Hogwarts, he'd been free to roam around the fells and lakes as he'd pleased. As long as he'd done his chores he could take off, often with Corwin by his side. Newt had been magically mucking stalls since he could hold a wand—there were some uses of underage magic grandfathered in by the new laws. If the family had a vocation, even very young children were expected to train for it.

Too soon, Corwin was circling lower, and the house came into sight. It was a looming bulk of a building in the Elizabethan style, with so many towers and gables that the roofline was daunting to look at, never mind repair.

"Whaaat is that?" Jacob was finally surprised into speech (of a sort) at the sight of the house.

Newt sighed. Corwin and Silvana had descended close enough for him to see every slate tiled roof, garden, stable and potting shed that made up the sprawl of his childhood home. It probably did look impressive to outsiders.

The hippogriffs landed in tidy unison on the expansive front lawn, a feature that all the Scamanders rather despised, but that the gardener felt very deeply was essential to meeting expectations of the house by the villagers and neighbors. Newt sprang from Corwin's back and helped Queenie and Tina dismount while Jacob gingerly slid off of Corwin's side, stumbling slightly as he met the ground. Newt hefted his case, then thought better of it and handed it to Jacob.  
Queenie and Tina were staring at the house, mouths open and eyes wide. Jacob was looking backward at the hippogriffs returning to their stable.

Newt wrung his hands.

"Please just wait outside for a few minutes. You could probably follow the hippogriffs to the stable—no, better not until I've announced you. I know it's cold, so Queenie, if you wouldn't mind performing a warming charm for the others, I'll go inside and see what we can expect. Maybe the groundskeeper's cottage is empty? The summerhouse by the lake?"

Newt devolved into mutters as he considered the possibilities that might keep them as sheltered as possible from the rest of the family, until he noticed that his friends were no longer focused on the house, but on something else over his shoulder. Newt turned around slowly where he stood.

A stately woman, tall and fit, with graying blond hair visible under her black riding helmet, stood behind him in jodhpurs, boots, and a crimson coat, tapping her unusually long wand like a riding crop against her leg. Tap, tap, tap went the wand. She raised an elegant brow.

"Hello Mummy," said Newt.

Gloriana Scamander said nothing, but stood tight-lipped, surveying the group on her lawn. She turned on her heel.

"Come along. I need to put up my tack, then I'll join you and your guests in the drawing room."

Newt's mouth dropped open to object—he wanted to speak with her privately—but then he realized how futile his objections would be and merely said,

"Yes, Mother."

She strode away in the direction of the tackroom and Newt was left to gesture nervously at his friends. When finally they were following him up the gravel drive toward the house. Although it had looked familiar from the air, as they drew closer Newt joined his friends in their overwhelm at the huge facade and how it dwarfed them as they approached.

The red sandstone of the building stood out starkly against the pale gray of the sky and the brown lawn to either side of the drive. Two tall towers flanked the huge front door. Several more echoed down either side of the building, breaking up the bulk.

"This—you call this a house?" Jacob asked.

"It looks more like a—" Queenie hesitated.

"A castle," Tina finished for her. "You grew up here?"

Newt ducked his head.

"Yes—and you're not wrong exactly. The house has never been a fortress, that is, it's never been under attack. At least, not in its present form. But you'll see—we don't use the entire house. It's really much less impressive inside."

They reached the stairs that lead up to the wide pointed arch of the doorway. The heavy dark wooden door, studded with dull metal, creaked open to admit them.

Newt held out his hand to Tina, and she just barely brushed his palm with her fingertips. Her eyes were still wide, trying to take in all the sights around her. Newt stayed perfectly still until he had her attention. Queenie and Jacob stopped two stairs below Tina and looked around up at the parapets, back at the stables, barely visible across the lawn, down the drive in the direction they came to where one could make out a huge wrought iron gate set in a high stone wall that stretched off into the woods on either side of the lawn.

"Tina," Newt said, once her eyes found his face. "I know it all looks very grand. And there's a reason for all that. But we really are just— people. You'll see. If it's hard it's not going to be because of the grounds or the hall—it's because of the people. So stay on guard, and please follow my lead. We don't need to tell them everything right away, alright?"

Tina looked troubled, but she nodded.

Newt lead them through the high entry hall which contained a grand stair leading up to the second story. There were huge portraits on the walls. Queenie walked up to one, a portly man with a red handlebar mustache in full military dress complete with sash and medals.

"They're still!" she said. "Are all these nomaj paintings?"

The man with the mustache winked at her, but then the portrait returned to stillness.

"Some of them were painted by muggles, yes," said Newt. "But as you can see they seem to have gained a little wizarding character from hanging in the house so long. We have regular portraits in the family gallery, but it's kept separate from this front part of the house."

Newt led them past a library, a dining room, two sitting rooms and a kitchen. There was a small pointed arch door set into the wall, half-covered with a tapestry of a knight confronting a dragon with an undersized sword. Newt pulled this back far enough to open the door with his wand. He motioned the others to go through the door ahead of him. Even the ladies had to duck their heads down to get through the door, which Newt closed securely after he'd stepped through.

"Ah. That's better," he said. "As you can see, this is the family's part of the house."

Here in the back of the house the tapestries moved in the wizarding fashion, retelling the stories woven into their ancient threads. The dark wood paneled walls were the same as in the other parts of the house, but here they were covered with tapestries, ancient shields bearing the Scamander coat of arms, two dragons back to back, tails entwined, breathing fire. This was superimposed over a red cross on a white background. Newt saw it and shuddered, remembering how vital it wall that he keep his thoughts shielded from Queenie.

He hurried them past some huge potted feather ferns that rustled musically as they approached. Tall glass window let in light from the back of the house, and they walked through this room, a conservatory with a grand piano and several enchanted instruments that perked up and let out a few hopeful arpeggios as they walked by.

When they reached the door of the drawing room, Newt stopped, turning to the others. "Now, please let me do the talking. And Queenie—don't you dare read any of their minds. I'm serious. They don't know what you are—it wouldn't be fair."

Queenie frowned at him but gave him a little nod of the head. Tina and Jacob looked at each other doubtfully, and Newt's heart sunk. He wanted to appear confident, but there was something about returning to one's childhood home after years away that seemed to require a return to the feelings of adolescence. That was the last thing Newt needed—he'd quite happily put that time and all those feelings in the past where they belonged.

Newt screwed up his courage and opened the wide wooden door. He was disappointed, but not surprised, to see the family already assembled before him.

Gloriana sat stiffly on the white sofa in a tweed skirt suit, and Salsify lounged on the arm of the sofa in a day dress and the clunky boots she'd stolen from his outgrown things to do her chores in. She raised her ginger brows under her flaming mane of hair and grinned at him shortly before returning her face to vaguely amused blankness. Theseus sat in an armchair to their mother's right, his fingers steepled in his lap in an annoying echo of the Minister of Magic. Which had copied which, Newt wondered? Theseus smirked at Newt, his perfect blond hair barely touched by red highlights fell in fashionable waves that stopped just above his chin. When he caught sight of Tina though, his eyes widened and then narrowed speculatively.

Lastly, George Sibelius Scamander, actual head of household, whatever the Ministry believed, was leaning against the mantelpiece, watching his second son carefully. He looked well, standing there in work trousers and an intricately knitted jumper rather than the crisp suit that he'd mainly worn throughout Newt's early adulthood. George's hair was as bright as Salsify's, and he smiled tentatively at Newt and his friends. A wave of guilt swept through Newt reminding him of his harsh words on their last meeting. But he hadn't changed his mind. Theseus may have worn the suit now—and Newt couldn't help but agree that the change in roles seemed to suit both father and brother well—but he couldn't help the feeling that Theseus as Lord Warden so soon was a mistake.

Gloriana cleared her throat and looked at Newt meaningfully. He gulped and ushered his friends into the center of the large room.

"Mother, Father," he said, leaving out the siblings for the time being, "These are my friends from New York. This is Jacob Kowalski and Queenie—also Kowalski," he had just barely caught himself and so hurried on, "and this," Newt stopped and went back to where Tina was standing slightly behind her sister, taking her by the hand and drawing her out in front of his family.

"This is Tina, my wife."

Salsify overbalanced and fell off the arm of the sofa, landing ungracefully in a heap on the floor. Newt was glad to see that she was still as childlike as he'd remembered.

Theseus raised his eyebrows.

"So it's true," he said.

George stopped leaning and stood rigidly, the smile dropped off his face. He stared nervously between Newt and Gloriana.

Newt's mother leaned back slightly, as though rocked by a strong wind. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then repeated, "Your wife?"

She looked at Tina. "When did this marriage take place?"

Tina was pale and breathing a little unevenly, so Newt stepped in.

"A few months ago—but—"

His mother glared at him. "I was speaking to your guest, Newton."

"Yes—but you see—"

A slight flicker in her eyes finally did him in.

"So—Tina, Mr. And Mrs. Kowalski, please sit down." Gloriana waved her wand, and the blue velvet sofa behind them advanced, knocking into the backs of Jacob's knees and sending him tumbling backward in surprise.

"Mother, please!" Newt protested. "Jacob is a muggle!"

"Oh is he?" she sounded as thought this had taken her a little off-guard. "But the others certainly aren't."

"No, Tina is an—was an—auror for MACUSA," Newt said. "And her sister Queenie also worked there."

"Hmm," said Gloriana.

"MACUSA, eh?" said Theseus, recovering from his surprise. "Then perhaps you and I know some of the same people. Let's see, I used to be in correspondence with Mr. Percival Graves, but his replacement, Mr. Abernathy, has been even more of a close correspondent, wanting advice on how we handle certain matters."

Could anyone sound more pompous if they tried? Newt rolled his eyes. Theseus caught it and sneered at him.

"We know those two," said Queenie, answering for Tina who was looking less and less well by the second. Queenie's eyes darted over to Newt, then to Gloriana on the white sofa across from them. That look did not bode well.

"Queenie, don't—" Newt whispered quickly.

"What's this?" Gloriana Scamander rose from her seat in shock. "Which of you would presume—?"

She was looking hard at Tina, and Newt couldn't help it, he couldn't let her be blamed.

"Queenie is a legilimens—a natural. She can't help it! She doesn't usually even mean to—"

It was as though a bomb had gone off. Salsify ran out the french doors that opened onto the porch and took off to the right. George's eyes grew wide and he quickly opened the door on the far side of the fireplace and went out. Gloriana glared at Theseus.

"What—I can stay—I'm the Lord Warden you know, I've passed my occlumency training years ago."

"Exactly," hissed his mother. "Years ago and with a trained legilimens to boot. You get out of here immediately or I'll write a report to the Minister myself—and the King, don't think I won't."

Theseus' lips pressed as tight as Gloriana's but he rose and left the room with only a deep glare at Newt. As he walked out past them he said just loud enough to be audible, "Home ten minutes and already causing six kinds of trouble for the family. Only you, little brother…"

After the door was shut behind him, Gloriana spoke.

"All right Newt, you wanted to explain. Tell me exactly why I should not turn Mrs. Kowalski out immediately."

"She doesn't mean it—she's never developed much control," Newt said. "It's a rare gift, but apparently so rare in America that almost no one there realizes what she is. She was advised at Ilvermorny to keep it to herself, but they were never able to engage a specialist to help her."

"That is not how we do things here, Mrs. Kowalski," said Gloriana, disapprovingly. "I am a trained legilimens of a sort myself. Though my specialty is in animals, it makes me very sensitive to mental intrusion. I'm certain you haven't got this far in life without realizing that using your gift indiscriminately is a serious breech of respect and decency."

"I never hurt anybody!" said Queenie. "I'd never use things I hear against someone!"

Newt sighed. He'd tried to tell Queenie telling strangers she was a good person wasn't sufficient to excuse her intrusions. This went double for people with legitimate secrets, but she apparently hadn't believed him. That, or, as he had come to suspect, she had never gained adequate control of her gift to turn it off when it was appropriate.

"That is not good enough. Whatever your intentions you could be manipulated, or tortured for information. And it's not as if you were very subtle in your efforts—any others with legillimency training would feel you coming at them a mile away. Is Ilvermorny really so inferior that they graduated a student unable to control her gifts? What did they do with you for exams?"

Queenie was red in the face, and looked like she was trying not to shout. "I took my exams, just like everybody else," she gritted out.

"But how did they know you weren't cheating?"

"I might be able to hear the others, but I didn't know which ones were right," she said defensively.

Gloriana tapped her foot.

"This is insupportable. The headmaster will be getting an owl from me in the morning."

Queenie seemed to have glued her mouth shut by force of will and sunk down on the sofa in misery. Jacob looked torn between his desire to comfort Queenie, his terror of Gloriana, and his strong streak of common sense which had long ago told him that Queenie's skill set was a difficult one to possess out in the open.

"Mother really!" Newt couldn't stand to see his friends so ill treated, even if he could see his mother's point of view as well. "Queenie and Tina have made the best of a very difficult situation. They lost their parents to Dragon Pox when they were young, and their aunt paid their school fees but was completely useless as a guardian otherwise. They've both done their best."

Gloriana rounded on Newt.

"And you! You couldn't have spared a second to send an owl telling us you were back in the country? Couldn't have spared a moment 'a few months ago' to tell us you'd married a witch you'd just met?"

"I've known Tina for over two years," Newt said.

Gloriana stared.

"And you said nothing when we last saw you?"

"You were only interested in discussing family business, if I recall," Newt said.

Gloriana flinched. She looked away, and Newt was unnerved to see tears glint in the corner of her eyes. She sniffed and rose from the sofa, turning away for a moment to regain her composure. When she turned back she flicked her wand and a little ball of yellow-green light spun off the end of it.

"Mr and Mrs. Kowalski may use the gamekeeper's cabin until we can work out other accommodation. I'm afraid you will have to fend for yourselves though. Our housekeeper and her daughter, who acts as housemaid, are both away visiting Mrs. Simmons' dying mother. It couldn't have come at a less convenient time."

The ball of light had been hovering and bobbing in the air in front of Gloriana while she spoke.

"Mr and Mrs. Kowalski, please follow the ball to the cabin. Someone will be with you shortly to discuss meals and any needs you might have. I would like a moment with my son and," she swallowed quickly, her left eyebrow raised, "my daughter-in-law."

Queenie gave Newt a very concerned look, and Jacob looked very unhappy.

"The light will show to where to go, and I'll send your luggage as soon as I have a moment," Newt encouraged.

Queenie looked like she wanted to protest, since Tina was very pale, but Jacob said, "All right, but please bring Tina if she needs anything, ok?"

They got up and followed the light out of the room. When the door shut behind them, Gloriana sighed and sat back down.

"I apologize," she said, turning to Tina, "I don't mean to make your sister uncomfortable but this is no place for a legilimens to arrive unannounced. Newt has been inexcusably lacking in proper etiquette."

She sighed, and summoned the drinks cart, which rolled toward them.

"I'd offer you tea, but as I've said, Simmons and Katie are gone for the immediate future, and I had no time to prepare anything. I think I'm going to have a brandy. Please help yourself if you'd like anything, Tina."

As she spoke, a large glass filled itself from a decanter full of a gold liquid.

"Mother! It's the middle of the afternoon!" Newt said. Tina would not usually be put off by this behavior, but if she was hovering somewhere in the realm of innocent schoolgirl it might be shocking.

Gloriana looked at him wryly.

"And I think I've had enough disturbing news to warrant a glass or two, thank you."

She took a sip, and sighed. She turned again to Tina.

"Newt mentioned that you are an auror. That's quite an achievement for someone your age. How long have you worked for MACUSA?"

"Mother, you can't—"

Gloriana gave Newt another quelling look and despite his absolute intention to say something anyway, he found himself looking to Tina to see what she would answer. It was not ideal, but he couldn't help secretly wonder if the uncomfortable situation would work, and help reconnect her memories. If Slughorn had been able to jolt Tina to lucidity with the mere mention of his mother, would the lady herself be able to produce even more remarkable results?

Tina took a shuddering breath, and straightened.

"I—don't know."

Gloriana looked unimpressed.

"You don't know. Is it not true then?"

"Mother, it's true," said Newt. "It's not so much that she doesn't know, as that she can't remember. That's why we're here."

He was disappointed, yet, but he wasn't going to let Tina be bullied any longer. Knowing it would help his case immensely with his mother, Newt dug in his pockets for the duplicates he had made of the files he'd given to the Minister. He couldn't trust Fawley not to lose or spill tea on them, so it seemed best to have some insurance.

Newt stepped over and passed her the entire thick file. After a second, he added one further thing that had been in the top pocket of his suit jacket. It was a picture that Queenie had had done on their wedding day. It hadn't been in the church as it would have been had they been in Britain. President Picquery had taken a moment to do the short ceremony herself, and though it really hadn't been much—Jacob hadn't even been able to be there because it was in the MACUSA building—but in the photo Newt and Tina were so giddy, smiling and laughing. The Newt in the picture picked Tina up and spun her around, beaming. He hadn't shown the picture to Tina, thinking it might make her uncomfortable. In truth, it would make him uncomfortable for her to see such an intimate moment that she no longer shared with him. But the photograph would go a long way toward explaining things to Mother. He laid it on top of the folder.

Gloriana picked it up, looking between the happy couple in the photograph and the two pale, tired people before her.

"What happened?" she asked sharply.

Newt gestured to the files in her hands, which she opened and began to page through. Newt paced over to the far wall where the windows let out on the side of the yard that the family used. He could see Salsify standing behind a giant holly bush trying to see through the window to where they were. He waved at her, and she ducked behind the bush. She must have realized what a pitiful move that was, because she sheepishly got up and waved back. She gestured for him to come out, but he held up one finger. She'd have to wait until all this was sorted.

Gloriana inhaled sharply. She must have got to the page with the photographs of Tina's injuries.

"This—this is horrible," she said. "You poor child. I'm so sorry."

When Newt spun around, he was very surprised to see that his mother had set aside the folder and was sitting beside Tina on the blue sofa, holding her hand.

"Th—thank you," Tina started, sounding a little hoarse. "I know Newt's been trying to find a cure—he found this plant, and a potions expert at the hospital, but not knowing where we're gonna be or what's gonna happen has been really hard," she let out a little sob.

This was too much for Gloriana, whose strictness covered a vast well of empathy for all creatures in need, and she hugged Tina tightly.

Newt was about to protest—he didn't want to make Tina uncomfortable, but before his eyes Tina wrapped her arms around the older woman as the sobs wracked her body. She cried for a very long time, and all Newt could do was stand there like an idiot while his mother soothed her and rubbed her back like she was a baby hippogriff with a broken wing. Like she had done for him when at five years old he'd tried to match Corwin's newfound powers of flight without a broomstick and had jumped off the roof of the stable.

"I don't—" Tina was stuttering, trying to speak through the fat tears that splashed her face. "I don't even know why I got hurt. What was I doing there? They say he found me, but why? Why was I alone?"

Newt felt wrung out. He walked over and knelt in front of the sofa where Tina and Gloriana sat.

"I'm not entirely sure. We've been over a little of this before—but I suppose you don't remember it. You'd learned something about a missing muggle journalist, and though I'd asked you to wait, for some reason you left before I could reach you. I had to try four different location spells before I got a lock on you. It was horrible. I was terrified that I was too late. But thankfully your injuries were easily mended—all except your memory, of course."

Tina quieted.

"And so," Gloriana said, "you came here in hopes that St. Mungo's could do something?"

"I had found something in my travels that seemed promising. A magical herb that grows beneath the nest of a creature whose venom produces forgetfulness."

"A natural antidote?" These existed more frequently than people realized, but it would be amazing to find a pair for something so major as memory.

"I don't know! We met with Professor Slughorn on Saturday at St. Mungo's, but he could only tell us he'd see us again in a fortnight."

"On Saturday?" asked Gloriana. "And since then?"

"We've been staying at the Leaky Cauldron."

"I see."

"Mother," Newt sighed. "You know I didn't leave here on the best of terms last time. And when I learned that Theseus was staying here—" He shuddered.

Gloriana rolled her eyes. "You two could complement one another so well, you know. But instead of cooperation, all we've ever gotten from either of you is rancor." She brushed the topic away with a gesture and continued. "Well, what changed?"

"Changed?" asked Newt

"Why did you come here, since you've made it so clear you didn't want to?"

Tina bit her lip. "Why—?" she began.

Newt stopped trying to formulate a passable answer for his mother and turned to his wife.

"Yes?" he encouraged.

Her brow furrowed, and she pulled back a little on the sofa from both his and Gloriana. He didn't like the way she seemed to be having trouble focusing on his face.

"Why didn't you tell your family that you and I got married?"

Newt closed his eyes. This was not a question he wanted to answer, not with his mother sitting there, ready to be wounded by whatever he said. He hurried to minimize the situation.

"Well, Tina, it all happened very quickly, you know. I was planning to travel to South America, and you had just finished a major case at work. And it all, well, everything just sort of led to it and—"

Newt shut up, because with every word he uttered Tina was becoming more and more agitated. Tears were rolling down her cheeks again, and her breathing was getting uneven.

"Tina, please! What is it?" he cried.

She covered her face.

"You wouldn't tell them—we got married real fast—it was all about the baby then, wasn't it?"

"What? No!" Newt tried to lean toward her. He needed to straighten this out once and for all.

"Baby."

The word was cold, and not even very loud. But the intensity of it was enough to break through Tina's upset. She edged away from the other woman on the sofa as Gloriana's face had once again stiffened into a blank mask.

"Newton. Explain."

Newt sprang up and away from his mother. He tore at his hair. Tina was gasping and when she removed her hands from her eyes they were very unfocused.

"This is all going wrong!" Newt walked over to the mantel and rested his head against the cold marble, closing his eyes for a bare moment. It was enough to prioritize. He strode over to Tina, and pulled her up from the sofa, finally at long last wrapping his arms around her as he'd wanted to do so desperately for months now.

"Remember what Jane Whatsit said, Tina? The midwife? She told us that you were eleven and a half weeks on. We were married on September the eighth. I've told you before, but you can look at our marriage license if that would help to keep it straight. Today is Monday, December 12, 1928. That gives us twenty-four days in between getting married and your attack."

Tina had been standing very still, red in the face with her eyes on his. She now very tentatively moved her arms to his back. Then she blushed even more fiercely.  
She dashed the tears away from her eyes.

"Twenty-four," she said shortly, trying to get herself under control. Tina never liked to make a scene, even when she felt it necessary. "Okay."

Newt didn't want to make her uncomfortable, and he could tell that he already was somewhat, but he gave into his needs and hugged her tight for a moment. It felt like hugging Tina, which was to say it felt absolutely perfect. It also gave him the opportunity to whisper in her ear, "Neither one of us had any practical experience whatsoever with any of this before we were married. Please don't worry."

He pulled back. She'd gone from scarlet to maroon, but her tears had stopped. They both turned at the sound of a cleared throat on the sofa. Newt stood as uncomfortably straight as Tina in response.

"Baby," Gloriana repeated. She was obviously trying very hard to stay elegantly neutral, but her usual propriety had already been bent and broken to pieces by all the completely off the wall revelations of the past half hour. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Gloriana was nothing like the mask of nobility that she put on as the lady of the manor.

Newt tried to get it out straight, to give it all the proper weight considering how much it had scared them all to learn of it, and how uncertain their future was because of it. But when he spoke, maybe due to the endorphins from finally hugging Tina, maybe because of the vulnerable note in his mother's voice, he couldn't keep himself from smiling.

"Yes. We found that out at St. Mungo's too—Tina and I are going to have a baby. She was checked out by an experienced midwife, and there was no damage to the baby during her attack. We hadn't known then—it was too early I suppose."

Newt waited for his mother's response, grinning like an idiot when he glanced out of the corner of his eyes and caught a pleased smile on Tina's face.

It was Gloriana's turn to get up and pace the room. She walked back and forth for a moment or two, then returned to where her glass of Brandy had been sitting on the drinks cart and drank the whole thing down without stopping. She winced a bit and shook her head.

"All right," she said to herself, a get-it-together pep-talk that Newt suspected Gloriana gave to herself silently in most circumstances. "Newt and his injured auror are having a baby, but are—and were—properly married."

"Yes," Newt hastened to confirm this, "you can see in the photograph—President Seraphina Picquery of MACUSA performed the ceremony herself."

Gloriana nodded slowly. "Hardly the Archbishop of Canterbury, but it could be much worse." She continued pacing, and Newt surreptitiously stepped back beside Tina, reaching his hand out slightly toward her. He was incredibly pleased when he felt Tina's long fingers tentatively tangle with his. It was going to be okay.

"Have you anywhere else to go?" asked Gloriana suddenly. "Any other options you haven't explored yet?"

"Um, no," said Newt.

"Excellent," said Gloriana. "Then I'll put Tina upstairs, and we shall all see to her care. We've got plenty of space, plenty of fresh air, food, easy access to London, and in a few months I have two Aetherion mares who will be ready to foal in case she needs some idea of how it's done. Why on earth didn't you come right away?" Gloriana was clearly not expecting an answer.

Newt raised his eyebrows at Tina and mouthed, "I wonder why."

"None of that, Newton. Now please get Tina settled in the Rose Room. You can have your old room."

He made a face and gently released Tina's hand as he strode toward his mother.

"Really, I was hoping we could stay in the Gamekeeper's cabin with Queenie and Jacob. Tina will want to be close to her sister."

"Oh that's right, the natural," said his mother, grimacing as she remembered the situation with Queenie. "And how have you fared, keeping company with a natural legilimens all this time? I don't recall you attending particularly closely to Ashley's occlumency lessons."

"I've learned," Newt said. "Don't look at me like that—I'm secure enough to make Queenie quite cross with me. Unfortunately she has always been told to keep her abilities a secret, so she's never really learned any of the etiquette we read about in school."

"She will have to learn, if she wants to stay. And that husband of hers, the muggle. Is he just planning to wait around here with her indefinitely?"

"Jacob owns a bakery in New York that he'll need to get back to eventually," Newt said. "He's incredible—it's been written up in all the muggle papers."

"A bakery?" Gloriana turned on her heel to face Newt. "Can he do other types of cooking?"

"I'm sure he can, though generally he does the pastries and Queenie does most of the main courses. Together though, they are amazing. Muggle hard work and magical technique can get quite a lot accomplished in the kitchen."

Gloriana's eyes gleamed. "Really? Then my prayers have been answered! I have a proposition for your friends. Theseus neglected to check with me before inviting several of his friends from the Ministry here for the Christmas holiday. If he had, I would have told him that Simmons and Katie are with their dying relative who seems to be taking her time about it—I'm sorry, that was uncharitable—but it's left us completely upended. I can barely do a souffle, and George isn't much better. Your sister likes making jellies for some reason, but I've never seen her come up with anything else. We can't exist on jellies alone throughout the entire Christmas season."

Newt crossed his arms. "So suddenly you're thrilled to have a legilimens to stay, so long as she cooks and cleans for you?"

"No cleaning! I can manage some charms for most of that, and well, the rest of us will just have to pull together on that front. I mean, we do have magic for heaven's sake. But I'm afraid no amount of magic is going to give me a place to start with a Christmas goose."

She looked thoughtful for a moment.

"If Mrs. Kowalski is willing to learn, I will teach her what I can, and then once I have an idea of her needs I can engage a tutor for her. Surely she'll want to learn more about legilimency. And if she agrees to stay away from George and Salsify until we're all more comfortable with one another, I am more than willing to apologize for any slights. And pay her and her husband for the chef duties."

"Let me ask for you," Newt said. "I'll see what they say. Jacob has left his bakery in good hands for the moment, but it is of course up to him when he feels he needs to return to it."

"Excellent. But not right away. Tina looks like she could use some time to rest. If there's anything you need dear, please don't hesitate to ask," she finished, looking at Tina in a bit of bewildered wonder. Things had moved very fast indeed.


	9. Chapter 9

Newt took Tina's arm with one hand and his case with the other and led her out the door that they'd used to enter the drawing room. Instead of going back toward the small arched door that led to the less magical part of the house, they continued on through the conservatory which was covered with exotic greenery through to a tiny kitchen that the family used and had a small breakfast nook off to the side. A narrow oak stair at the back was originally intended to be a servant's entrance upstairs, but like most things at Blethering it was done backwards since servants were the only people who ever used the grand staircase in the front hall. Instead, up this little winding passage were all the bedrooms in the east wing of the house, where the family slept. Newt was gratified to see that Tina was given a room in this area, not too far from his own. Hopefully Theseus' friends would all be assigned rooms beyond in the west wing, where the protections were not as thick and which was separated from the other parts of the house.

Tina stared interestedly around her on their way up, but had started to yawn when they reached the top of the stair. Newt hesitated. He wanted to take her to his room, but she did look very sleepy, and goodness knew what state his space was in. Gloriana was constantly threatening to take up weaving just so that she could fill up his whole room with looms and bobbins, but she never had thus far. He wouldn't have blamed her, but as they'd seen downstairs, her bluster covered up a great deal of sentimentality, so she probably hadn't. Yet to be on the safe side, he led Tina down the corridor toward the left—this part had been done in ancient yellow and orange striped wallpaper—and stopped by a dark wood doorway covered in carved brambles. Newt frowned at them.

"Come now, surely you heard Mother. This is Tina, and she'll be staying in here. I'm helping to care for her, so you'd better let me in too or we'll take ourselves off to my room and you can just carry on being empty."

He shook his head impatiently, and Tina looked interested enough to raise an eyebrow at his speech.

Thankfully it had its intended effect and the brambles slid away, leaving only a beautifully ornate open doorway covered with carved wooden roses. They stepped inside, and the room beyond was as rose-themed as it was possible to be, with everything from the color of the curtains to the pattern of the bedcovers to the wide vases in several locations around the room stuffed full of roses. A look behind them showed a door had appeared, with a handle that looked like a spray of blossoms.

"I'm impressed," he said to Tina. "It's looking much nicer than I can ever remember. Usually it's so unrestrained you feel like you've accidentally fallen into a bush, but the small roses on the wallpaper with larger expanses of white keeps it from being as garish as usual. Good show, Rose Room," he said, and the curtains fluttered in response.

Tina walked in with a laugh. She pointed down.

"Even the carpet is roses. It didn't hold back on this one." It was true. Newt looked down, and saw that the rug at the side of the canopied bed had a pattern of rose vines elaborately growing in a labyrinthine shape, ever-changing.

"I think it's a maze," he said, tracing a way in with the toe of his boot. "But it's so complex and changeable it's probably not worth the time to solve."

Tina, who was not normally what he would call a flower person, looked impressed at the dedication to a theme.

"There's even roses on the windows!"

The top portion of each window was done in stained glass with red, white, and pink roses and their green leaves styled together in wide clumps. Thankfully the room had left the bottom portion of the glass clear so that Tina could look out. This room also faced the back of the house, and they were high enough up that Newt could point out the direction of the hippogriff stables to Tina and show her a glimpse of the lake beyond the gardens.

"And to the right, back toward the wood, is the gamekeeper's cabin. Once you're settled in, I'm going to go over and discuss Mother's proposition with Queenie and Jacob."

Newt expected Tina to insist on coming with him, but instead she looked down at her hands. "I hope they take it. It would be great if Queenie could learn how to control her gifts."

Tina sniffed and sat down on the plush bed, which had more give than she was evidently expecting since she fell backwards. Newt gave her a hand and helped lever her back upright.

"It's my fault you know, that she's so secretive. At school, one teacher caught her, but I told convinced him not to say anything. You see, she read a secret—something bad he'd done. Nothing awful, just a lie he'd told his wife that could cause a lot of trouble. I…convinced him to keep quiet, and we wouldn't tell. As far as I remember, I'm the only one who's ever used Queenie's talent to blackmail somebody. Queenie really did study hard, and made her own mistakes on tests. She wasn't always in people's heads. It was emotional stuff that was easier for her to read anyway, when we were kids. But I told her that she couldn't tell anyone, because if she did we might get kicked out of Ilvermorny, and we had no place else to go."

Newt carefully sat beside Tina on the bed. He didn't want to underplay the seriousness of her confession, but he was very pleased that Tina was acting so familiarly with him. She peeked up at his face, and he realized that he ought to respond and not just stare at her like a moon calf.

"You did what you felt you had to do, and I think Mother can easily be dissuaded from writing to the headmaster. But it wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing for Queenie to now learn some of the legilimency etiquette that keeps people at least somewhat comfortable with them. My father is not so weak as all that, but he's been sworn never to take unnecessary risks with his duties, and an unpredictable legilimens is definitely one of them. Salsify has never been particularly closed off about anything, so I think she's going to have the hardest time shielding her thoughts. Who knows though, she might say the same thing about me, and I've managed. Not that I can do so without irritating Queenie. She seems to be completely annoyed with me."

"Well," Tina looked down at the space between their hands on the edge of the bed, then off to the side. "It has been pretty hard, being in a foreign country, not knowing where we'll end up. It's not so bad here, but you were so set on avoiding this place I didn't know what was going to happen to us."

"I wouldn't let you live on the streets," Newt said, half-laughing. Tina looked uncomfortable. Newt turned to her. He realized with some sadness that she really didn't trust him to be able to take care of her. He'd been so focused on not wanting to give in to the reasonable course of action and go see his parents that he'd made Tina, and maybe Queenie and Jacob, feel that they'd been in real danger of having no shelter.

"Really Tina. The worst that would have happened was we'd have had to set up house in a garret somewhere. It's not even illegal—not unless a muggle reports something strange. And with the case already expanded, we have a lot of space and furnishings to choose from."

"Why didn't you choose to do that then?" Tina asked.

"I thought about it. But we can't have the midwife coming round to some muggle's attic for a home visit. And there is the future fact of a baby…I don't know that there are any charms so complete that they could keep muggles from hearing the sounds of a baby."

Tina looked down again, and this time Newt caught a blush on her cheeks. He ought to back off—she seemed so uncertain. Perhaps hugging her in the drawing room was a grave mistake, because all he wanted now was to be close to her again. He turned, so that his knees were pressing toward Tina's on the bed, and held out his hand.

Tina stared at it, a little worried crease in the center of her brow. But she took a deep breath and slowly took hold. Newt smiled at her, and she smiled back. She slid toward him a little on the bed, and, aided by its sinking fluff, lost her balance and shifted into him. He caught her around the shoulders with his other hand, but the bed seemed to give a shiver, and they ended up flat on their backs on the bed, looking up at the canopy of red roses, strung on vines from the head of the bed to the posts at the foot.

"Weren't those pink a second ago?" Tina said.

"Oh dear." Newt sat up. He'd never actually slept in the Rose Room, having had a perfectly serviceable room to himself once he'd outgrown the nursery. He tried to remember who had stayed there. Cousins, maybe an aunt or two. All individuals from what he could remember. What on earth was his mother thinking? That it would embarrass him into leaving Tina alone? Or was this some sort of very awkward encouragement?

"I think this room has perhaps a little more developed in its personality than I had realized." He stared down at the rug at their feet. On one end a tiny figure was backtracking out of the maze. It looked like him. He lifted his head up. "Now, that's not funny," he said to the air.

"What is it?" asked Tina, sitting up and leaning her shoulder against his. Newt nodded at the rose-choked maze of vines depicted on the carpet, and Tina leaned forward to investigate. She pointed to a tiny figure he had not noticed on the opposite side of the maze.

"It's me!" she said.

Sure enough, the tiny Tina figure was wearing the same blue blouse and long black skirt. Her hair was in a bun at the base of her neck like Tina's. Where Newt's figure was now pacing around the entrance to the maze, looking agitated, Tina's was slowly advancing through it. Tina looked thoughtfully at it, and brought her arm, which had been trapped between them on the bed, up and touched his cheek. She watched as the Tina figure took off running toward the center of the maze.

Newt blushed crimson at the implications of such a scene and scrambled away.

"I can ask Mother to prepare another room for you. This one has clearly been empty for too long. It's developed ideas."

The room reacted visibly to this. Both little figures disappeared from the rug at the side of the bed, and the roses on the canopy of vines went back to pale pink.

Tina was also blushing as she realized exactly what was going on. "Did this room always…?"

"I don't know!" Newt said. "I can never remember anyone but a single spinster aunt or cousin at a time staying in here. Wizarding houses that have been active for ages are sometimes a little…unpredictable. But I think it will be quite comfortable for the moment, and you surely should rest for a while. I hope that you'll—I mean, someone will come get you before dinner. If you need anything, just ring."

He indicated the bell pull at the side of the bed. It wasn't really attached to anything, but it did work all the same, even though they no longer had house elves to answer.

Newt was not at all sure that he ought to leave Tina alone in the Rose Room, but he wasn't sure that any other place in the Scamander family home would be any better. He strongly suspected that the room was having a laugh at his expense, and that once he left Tina would find everything to her satisfaction. But the longer he stood there, looking at Tina, who was now leaning back on her elbows on the bed, looking up at him with her dark eyes flashing, the harder it was to leave. She was talking about her school days like they'd just happened, yet she looked just like the Tina that he had married, the one who was going to have his baby—and she was that person, but she also was not. It was all too confusing, and he had to leave before he made it even more so.

"I—I must go. Right now."

He turned on his heel and practically ran out the door, looking over his shoulder just long enough to see Tina frowning at him from the bed.

Newt bolted down the narrow corridor, pausing at the tiny staircase to look longingly in the direction of his room. He found he deeply wanted to know if Gloriana had changed it or left his things as they'd been the last time he'd stayed. But Queenie and Jacob were likely very unsettled and all their things were in his case. The least he could do was go try to smooth things over and see if they would accept his mother's proposal. He set off down the stairs, slipping out a door in the back of the pantry attached to the kitchen that led to the back of the house.

This back area was vegetable and fruit production for the family and the animals, with wide neat beds interspersed with fruit trees trained into dividers. The greenhouses were off the far side of the potting shed, where the gardener, a squib named Sikes, had been lurking for longer than Newt could remember. Salsify had her own greenhouse now, Newt noted, since it was nigh on impossible that Sikes would have ever consented to the frivolous brass-and-glass beauty that looked like it held every sort of exotic flowering shrub, all going at once. The sides were heavy with condensation, and the air felt warm as he passed by.

"Newt!" the girl herself bounded out of the brass door and threw her arms around him in a brief hug before stepping back. "I can't believe it—you finally showed back up! And what a spectacle you have provided us all with! A legilimens! A muggle! And a wife! And all this just after what's happened in the village! What on earth is going on?"

"Sally, please don't call my friends a spectacle. It's rude They've traveled a long way under very difficult circumstances."

He paused.

"Wait, what happened in the village?"

"Somebody's apparently seen one of the creatures."

"A hippogriff?" Every one of their creatures had invisibility cloaking regularly reapplied just in case they got out.

"No, it must have been something smaller—it was apparently inside the Cooper's shed. Now you're here though maybe you can help mother with it if she's not too miffed to speak to you after embarrassing her in front of strangers like you did."

"I had hoped to speak with Mother privately before having them all put up before the entire family. It was never my intention to make a scene."

Newt knew he sounded a bit sulky, but he couldn't seem to help it. Something about the air here had him acting like a teenager. First he could scarcely control his thoughts around Tina, and now he was shifting blame.

"Oh that was us," said Salsify breezily. "Corwin was so excited when he came into the stable that I just had to see what had got all the hippogriffs riled up. And then Theseus saw me bolting around the house and chased me, and then Mummy and Daddy looked so serious, we just couldn't help but force ourselves in on things."

"Well now we've all made a mess of things. After upsetting all my friends, Mother wants me to convince Jacob and Queenie to fill in as kitchen staff for Theseus' guests, and I've got to…well, I'll tell you now, I brought Tina from New York to London because she's been injured."

He looked down at the gravel path beneath his boots. Whenever he was confronted with this reality he was struck anew with the feeling of loss. Where had Tina gone? If she were herself, how would she be feeling about the prospect of a baby? If she hadn't wanted one, why hadn't she taken a potion to prevent it? And if she had wanted one, why hadn't she said anything? These issues unsettled Newt, since he was certainly as guilty as Tina. But with no way to know what she was thinking, he was left wondering how they would ever come out right.

Salsify, in the meantime, had gone on speaking.

"Ah. That makes more sense. She did seem a little, well, terrified. I've obviously never seen you involved with anybody, so anyone whatsoever is of course a surprise. Wouldn't she have to be able to manage with graphorns and thunderbirds and such? You coming out of nowhere with this timid shrinking shy violet type was very strange."

"Tina's not timid," Newt said defensively. "Not usually, anyway. She does just fine around thunderbirds. She's an auror, but she was injured while investigating some suspicious activity in New York, and now she can't remember much of her adult life. That would be enough to handle on its own, but the memory charm was not done properly, so sometimes it all goes off, and she can't make any new memories at all. The trip over here was difficult, but she's been doing very well since we got here. The healers suggested that a new environment is spurring her to be more present with us."

"Oh goodness, how awful! Isn't there anything you can do?"

Salsify's hand had gone over her mouth.

"I did find something—you'd be interested Sal—it's a plant that I found under swooping evil's nesting grounds."

"Swooping evil? Isn't that that brains-eating yo-yo you shoved in my face at breakfast last time?"

Newt could not help himself—it really must be the air up here—he reached into his pocket, grasped swooping evil's coccoon and flung the creature up into her face where she'd been leaning against her garden spade.

"Ack! Blech! You git!" She jumped back and scowled. "So much for married life making you more mature!"

Salsify stuck her tongue out at him as he tried to resist smirking. Newt decided she was right, so to make it up to her, he summoned one of the little seedlings of the mbwo that he'd potted up.

"Here—" he tossed it to her.

Salsify let go of her spade in surprise and scrambled to catch the terra cotta pot. She did, and then stared at the specimen.

"What is this?" she asked.

"The locals called it mbwo—their word for evil, and for witchcraft. It's got a very dark reputation. While swooping evil's venom removes bad memories—"

"This brings them back?" Salsify stared at it. "Sounds dreadful. You really want to give that to your wife?"

She made a doubtful face.

"I would never give Tina anything that would hurt her," he said reproachfully. Yes, his last and only other attempt at romance had ended very poorly while Salsify was still a little girl, but was it so inconceivable that he could have a healthy relationship?

"I wrote to the new Hogwarts Potions Master," Newt explained, "and he came down to St. Mungo's to meet us this past week-end. He's promised to do the thing safely."

"Slughorn? I've heard he's dreadfully full of himself."

"He has an excellent reputation. Dumbledore himself referred me."

"Well in that case I suppose you had little choice but to try it. Did it seem to make any difference so far?"

Newt had started back along the path to the gamekeeper's cabin, and Salsify took up her spade and trotted alongside him.

"This was the first Slughorn had seen of the mbwo, and he said he needed time to study it. A fortnight." Newt sighed heavily.

"Ah, so that's why you're here. You forgot that human beings need care and feeding that can't all be provided in a box." She kicked out at his case, which he snatched back from her muddy boot.

"Watch it," he snapped. They were getting close to the forest. Salsify really shouldn't get any closer to Queenie. He stopped and turned to his sister. She was slender like the rest of them, but she only came up to his shoulder. Her hair gleamed more brightly than anyone else's in the family. Briefly, Newt wondered whether the baby would have his coloring or Tina's. This somehow embarrassed him as a thought to have around his little sister. Newt definitely did not want to tell her about the impending baby. Salsify, at least, should get a chance to know Tina before there were any more shocking revelations or miscommunications about timing.

"Shove off now. And Sal—be careful with that plant. I've only just begun to learn about it. I don't have any information about its growing patterns or whether or not it's invasive."

Salsify nodded slowly, and hefted her spade over one shoulder. "Thanks, I'll be careful."

Newt straightened his shoulders, and set out on the dirt path into the woods toward the cabin where Jacob and Queenie were staying.

Newt knocked politely on the rough-hewn wooden door of the gamekeeper's cabin. It was just far enough into the forest to give it a little privacy from the house, but it was a very short walk. A thud sounded inside, and after a long moment, Jacob came to the door and opened it slightly.

"Um, yes?" he said.

Newt looked around him. Why was Jacob sounding so agitated?

"I brought your things," he said, holding up his case.

"Alright, just a minute," Jacob said, shutting the door in Newt's face.

Uncomfortable, Newt set his case on the path and opened it.

"Don't get any ideas, you lot," he said. "I know it smells good out here, but believe me there's things in this forest that could eat the fiercest and quickest of you for breakfast, so stay put."

He levitated out Jacob's modest suitcase, and Queenie's trunk, two suitcases, and a hatbox. They were a matching set, and he could only surmise that Queenie liked the look of them, because there was no other good reason for not putting an expansion charm on one of them like he'd done for his case and Tina's trunk.

Finally the door opened, and Queenie stood there looking perfectly put upon. She had her arms crossed, and Newt could tell that whatever had transpired in the cabin, she was still very hurt by his words in the drawing room.

"How's Tina?" she asked shortly.

"She's well—she's resting in the house."

Queenie sniffed.

"I hope you're finding the cabin satisfactory," he said, looking at his shoes miserably.

"Are you kidding?" said Jacob from inside. "This place is amazing! It looks like it grew right out of the woods! One of the bedroom walls is six trees with plates of glass between them!"

"It's nice," Queenie admitted.

"I'm sorry for telling my mother so abruptly that you were a legilimens," Newt said. "I didn't want Mother to think that it was Tina who was trying to read her mind, but the reaction was very extreme. Things tend to spiral quickly out of my control in this house."

He looked up at Queenie, and even tried loosening his tight grasp on his mind enough to let his sincerity become obvious.

Queenie looked at him hesitantly.

"I do need to ask you though—why did you try to read Mother? I'd just asked you not to look at anybody's thoughts. Why on earth would you do that to someone you'd first met? Especially when I've been telling you that there are—very boring!—things that my family is not to disclose to anybody."

Newt realized that his opening himself up to Queenie to prove his honesty was working against him rather, because when he was honest with himself about his feelings, he had to realize that he was still frustrated with Queenie's behavior.

Queenie looked away, and Newt was panicked to see that she was wiping away a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Look, I'm sorry for speaking sharply. I hadn't realized quite how frustrating I found this. And I want us to work through it."

Jacob stepped up to the door, putting his arm around Queenie. "Why don't we all come in," he said, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Queenie turned on her shoe—she was back to her strappy heels—walked to the sitting room that adjoined the entryway and sat on a sofa with a huff. Jacob went to sit beside her. Newt waved his wand, and the luggage precrded him into the cottage while he picked up his case, double checking the latches.

The gamekeeper's cabin was a compact but comfortable cottage that had once housed an actual gamekeeper and his family. Sometime before Newt was born, however, the last one had died and had never been replaced. Instead, the cabin had been available to guests and the occasional lingering family member who they wanted out of the house. Off to the right from the entry was the dining room, and beyond it the door to the kitchen. To the right was the sitting room, and then behind it was a room that served as the library and study. All four bedrooms were upstairs, though there was a workshop and a mudroom by the back entrance for the performance of gamekeeping duties, though they stood neglected now.

Newt stepped inside, and walked over to a chair across from Queenie and Jacob. The living room furnishings were newish and comfortable. Newt recognized a couple pieces as castoffs from the house when his mother had renovated after his grandparents had retired. The walls were plastered a cheerful white and the glass on the several small windows across the front was many small panes put together in diamond shapes. There were a few ancient taxidermied animals on high shelves that ringed the sitting room. They were mostly mundane, though Newt thought he spotted a snorklack in there. He sat, and turned nervously to Queenie and Jacob.

Queenie was examining her fingernails, so Jacob spoke up. "Queenie thought your mother was keeping something from us. She was acting all severe, but Queenie could tell she was worried about something—"

"I would imagine having a party of strangers appear on one's lawn including a witch that one's estranged son had married without one's knowledge or consent would induce worry," Newt said, feeling all the worse for being in this situation and bringing all this to his mother's door. They had their own issues, of course, but it was not Gloriana's fault that everything here was so secretive and intense.

"No," said Queenie. "It wasn't that. It was something from before we got here, because I could tell when we first saw her that she was so glad you were home. Overjoyed, really, under there. But also relieved."

"Relieved?" Newt thought this over. "I suppose she must have been glad to have the chance to resolve our argument from the last time I'd visited."

"I don't think that was it. It was like the answer to her problem—whatever she was worried about," said Queenie. "But if I'm supposed to just stay out here in the woods away from everybody I'll never find out."

This brought Newt to what he had to say. "Mother would like to convey her apologies for her strong reaction. And I'd like to try to assuage your curiosity if I can, so you understand why a legilimens here is such an upset. As I've said, there's a bunch of stuffy old passwords and protocols and other boring things that most likely will never need to see the light of day in our modern world. It's all left over from a royal decree in the sixteenth century that set us up officially here with the house and land. Since this was about a century before the official adoption of the International Statute of Secrecy, we are sort of grandfathered in as an exception in many ways.

"My family are supposed to act as go-betweens, you see. Theseus has a position at the Ministry of Magic, but he also sits in muggle Parliament. The idea originally was the mixing of our societies, but now it's more that none of the London muggles knows Theseus is a wizard, and he's responsible for making sure they don't blunder into any of our houses, settlements, sporting events, etc. After he finished at Hogwarts he had to go for two years to a muggle school called Harrow, so that he would know all the right princes and ministers and such. I very, very, narrowly avoided the same fate, but since I was never going to be Lord Warden it didn't really matter. Anyway, most of our family difficulties center around this awkward reality."

"Oh." Jacob said. He and Queenie shared a wide-eyed look. "Then he must be pretty important."

Newt snorted. "He certainly thinks so. Theseus is a selfish git. Somehow going to that muggle school as the only wizard made him feel so superior that he came out champing at the bit to become Lord Warden. And that's what our argument was about. Two years ago, my father retired early and handed the post to Theseus. I did not think that was a wise decision."

"Sounds like you still don't," said Queenie.

"Theseus was supposed to be training—well, that's probably a little more than I can tell you. But I maintain that he hasn't met the requirements, and it should be Father who's in London. After the war, Father seemed to think the job was unnecessary, but now that Grindelwald is out there, trying to stir up trouble on the very issue that the post concerns…"

Jacob and Queenie again looked at one another.

Hesitantly Queenie spoke.

"But you didn't like what your parents had to say about your concerns either, did you?"

"No," he said.

Newt stood up, suddenly too agitated to sit anymore. Was Queenie reading his thoughts? He clamped down on his mind, not at all wanting to rehash all of these tumultuous feelings. He went over to the window and looked out.

"But there's nothing to be done about all that. In any case. Mother wanted to apologize and offer an olive branch of some training in formal legilimency."

Queenie looked surprised. "Is she a legilimens? I wasn't getting that from her."

"Of a sort. As she said, she communicates with animals."

Queenie smiled, despite herself. "That's where you get it then."

Newt ducked his head. "I get it on both sides—my parents are very well suited in both their talents and interests."

"And romantically? Do they have a good marriage?" Queenie asked.

Newt looked at her a bit strangely. He'd never really thought about it. When he'd been a child, Gloriana had ruled the house and stables George had commuted to London, coming home late and leaving early. Yet they had always presented a united front, and even though Gloriana had been called to deal with muggles who expected things of her that she had no way of knowing how to do, such as raising funds for a new roof for the school or giving out the prizes at the nearby girls' school. They'd had to figure out how to patronize the county fair, just like any other residents of the local "big house". It had driven them all mad, since muggle social norms were not really wizards' strong suit, and the first time any muggle was confronted with a hippogriff they would inevitably faint, so they had to go to all manner of trouble to hide things under layer upon layer of illusions. Still, for all the inconvenience that went with the Scamander name, Gloriana had never given any hint that she regretted signing up for the job. And for George's part, when Gloriana decided to start breeding hippogriffs, he'd merely had another stable built and told the winged horses it was their own fault for being so stuck up. The Aetherions, which were a traditional part of the Scamander family's work, just had to lump it and share their pasture and their second stable with the hippogriffs.

Now that Newt reflected on it, that sounded like a fairly good marriage to him. He shrugged and gave a nod.

"Huh," said Queenie, and New wondered if she'd been looking inside his head. But he hadn't felt a thing.

"I told Mother that Jacob owns a very fine bakery." Newt changed the subject.

"Yeah?" said Jacob, a little uneasily.

"And that Queenie is an excellent chef," he continued.

"Why?" asked Queenie.

"As you can probably gather, my family would prefer to shift for itself and remain isolated with our creatures and our other work. We are expected to keep up the house, so a woman and her daughter usually come up to look after the front parts of the house, while the rest of us manage the back between us. This lady and her daughter are at the beside of a dying relation at the moment, and Theseus, the showy ponce has as usual put everyone in an awkward place by inviting up colleagues from London who are expecting the full wizarding English Christmas, complete with feasts and probably—" Newt shuddered "—archery."

"Why is archery a problem?" asked Jacob in confusion.

"It's not, usually. Just that wizard archery competitions can become so petty. Eating animals for food is one thing—it's part of our biological history and optimal for our physiology, as well as providing the continued existence of domesticated livestock. But shooting at things for…fun…" He shook his head.

"Okay, so you're going to have wizards here in a couple weeks," said Jacob, returning to the matter at hand. "Does your mother want us out of here by then?"

He sounded a little reluctant, looking around as he did at their comfortable surroundings.

"Not at all. Instead she was hoping to offer the two of you lodgings, tutoring for Queenie, and a reasonable wage if you would cook for the party while they're here. She promised there would be no domestic housework involved—just purely dealing with the kitchen. We have two—one that's been used by Mrs. Simmons, who is not a witch, and another that we use in the back of the house. You're welcome to whichever you'd like."

"So now that we can be useful your mother doesn't mind us sticking around?" Queenie asked skeptically.

Newt held up his hands.

"I know, it's not ideal. But I hope it would not be too much work for you. Since she's been friendlier," Newt tried not to blush, he really did, "I can do most of the looking after Tina. We did learn at St Mungo's that novelty was likely to encourage Tina to stay aware, and there's plenty here to show her that should keep her occupied."

Queenie and Jacob looked at each other.

"That's a good point, honey," Queenie said to him. She turned to Newt without explaining. "Okay, we'll do it, at least through the Christmas holidays. That'll give Tina a place to be for a while, and your Slug guy some time to come up with something to help with Tina's memory. But I want to be able to see Tina. I don't want her stuffed up in your castle."

"You'll be able to see Tina whenever you'd like," Newt assured. "I'm so relieved that you'll agree. We'll figure out something for dinner this evening. Let me speak to Mother and I'll either bring Tina out here, or I'll take you both back up to the house."

Newt ran back up to the house, since it was impossible to actually aparate inside it. He could probably have got a little closer from the gamekeeper's cabin, but Newt needed the walk to help him figure out his next move. Tina might want something, though he hadn't been alerted by the bell pull charmed to notify the right person for the job. Perhaps it was instead that he wanted to see Tina. On the other hand, in the flurry of activity since arriving in Blethering, he hadn't yet been able to send an owl to the midwife. Even though he'd rather check on his wife, he decided that he'd better do that before he ran out of day. Thee owlery was, as in most castles, at a high point that was clear of any other towers, giving the birds the best possible start on their journeys, but it was a bit of a climb.

Newt was walking briskly past the stables when a throat cleared behind him. Newt froze, fearing that his older brother had already caught him alone. He turned sharply, and saw that it was actually his father leaning against a tree. Goodness, but he and Theseus had similar voices. Newt had never though so growing up. It was probably that Theseus had finally perfected copying it. Both boys had idolized their often distant father growing up, but Theseus' admiration had been poisoned by his jealousy around the position he was to inherit. Theseus would only be made Lord Warden when George retired or died. George knew that this was a difficult prospect for a small boy to understand and make peace with, but despite all their ways of explaining Muggle inheritance all Theseus could see was that George stood between him and the power that he coveted. And so, instead of keeping that power out of the hands of someone who coveted it, they'd just given it to him as early as possible.

George did look well though. He'd always been tall and somewhat lean, though the suits had left him looking highly formal most of the time. Now his hair was a little longer, and still a bright ginger, though streaks of white had started to show at the temples. He was wearing a green jumper and boots, and looked remarkably comfortable in them, especially when contrasted with the formal picture Newt held of his father in his mind. Newt wondered unkindly if George had just been so glad to get the responsibility of the job off his back that he'd been thrilled that his eldest son had been so interested in it. But then, Newt had never wanted to learn anything about being Lord Warden, and had joined his voice to Theseus' when he'd been forced to sit in protocol lessons "just in case". Never had the brothers been so united in purpose. George had an enormous deerhound with luminous eyes at each side.

"Walk with me then?" George asked.

Newt hesitated. "I've got to see to the creatures, and then I've an owl to post. Something about Tina's care. Did mother tell you?"

George nodded, and smiled tentatively.

"It seems we're to be grandparents at last."

Newt ducked his head.

"And what should be a happy occasion is clouded by our own family arguments and your wife's injury."

"It's all so much," Newt admitted. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you and Mother about Tina. She has no family other than her sister, and they're very close. I thought it would be better to get married, and then visit, since you don't travel anyway. And then we were traveling and then MACUSA summoned us back to New York, and I never thought to send an owl. Then I found Tina—all bloody and broken, and all I could think about was anything that might help her condition."

George sighed. They walked up toward the stables.

"It does seem that a great number of things are happening at once. On our end, your mother and I were thinking about swallowing our pride and sending for you anyway. You see, we're having a bit of a problem with our wards."

Newt recalled what Salsify had said. "Oh, you mean the something that got into the village?"

"Not something, but somethings. We've been able to keep it quiet thus far. Most of the locals are still at least partially aware of who we are and the fact that there are things in these woods that are quite unlike the things in the woods of Cormel Castle up the way, but it's one thing to hear stories and an entirely different one to be confronted with a murtlap in your dressing room."

"Oh dear," Newt said, nervously tightening his grip on his case. His mind raced. He'd been so careful to keep the clasps shut, and even the niffler had not been able to get round them. When it had escaped, it had waited for Jacob to go down, who was easier to dodge. But Newt had held the case the entire time they'd been here. "Wait, I heard that is was in the Coopers' shed. That's what Sally said, anyway."

"I'm afraid it's all true. The murtlap was a week ago Saturday," George said, "and the doxies were early this morning. I was down in the village dealing with them when your mother notified me that you were here."

"Last Saturday," Newt repeated. Thank heavens, that meant this wasn't his murtlap at least. But why would magical creatures be running about the village?

"I assume you've checked the wardings then?" he looked out toward the gate, where if he unfocused his gaze in just the precise manner, he could see the vague outline of their physical defenses. These would keep intruders out and creatures in. This was the front face of their security, but it was compounded by centuries of compulsion charms, most targeted toward individual animals to encourage them to stay in the proper areas, and to notify the family if something was off about their habitats that was causing them to try to relocate. Other spells were worked on the muggle townsfolk, to make them more accepting of what they'd seen, to discourage them from telling tales to outsiders, and preventing them from reacting fearfully if thy did come across an unusual creature.

"Yes, and nothing seems out of order. If anything, Theseus may have used too heavy a hand on the complacency charms around town. We don't want the farmers forgetting to do their work just because they're feeling so contented about the state of the world. We need those fields in good shape."

"And that shouldn't have anything to do with animals getting out," Newt said, "just the reactions of the muggles who find them."

"Mr. Cooper came up here immediately when he found trouble in his shed, so we've had a good chance to clean up after the doxies. Thankfully they weren't left alone for any amount of time."

They had reached the stable, and Newt set down his case at the end of a row of interested-looking hippogriffs. Corwin was not in his stall, but Silvana squawked in greeting. Newt nodded to her politely and reached down and opened it, and looking sideways at his father. He suddenly felt very bashful, like a first year showing off a school project.

"Would you like to—"

George nodded quickly, his eyes sparkling, and Newt preceded him into the case.

"Lie down Tigris, Euphrates," the elder Scamander said to the dogs, who then obediently curled up in a pile of fresh straw behind the case. Newt was already down the stairs, looking around to see if perhaps there was anything he ought to have tidied up and being met with several months worth of mess that he hadn't bothered to sort out yet.

"Could you shut the lid?" he called up to his father.

"Of course." George had been inside once before, but it had been years ago, when the case was much newer and far less impressive. Newt nervously waved his wand around, causing books to fly back to their shelves and papers to reshuffle themselves on the desk.

George took a quick look around, leaning toward a picture which had been tacked to the wall of Newt, Tina, Queenie and Jacob that had been taken at Coney Island. They were eating ice creams, smiling widely, and waving madly. A red eyebrow raised, but George said nothing, and Newt opened the door to the rest of the case. He really only wanted his father's opinion of the best way to proceed with the injured hippogriff, but now he was here, Newt felt like he was showing off. Or like he wanted to show off. It was making his heart rate accelerate.

George stepped up behind Newt, and the two of them looked out over the activity that occupied Newt's case. Fwoopers swooped and scooped up insects from midair, while grindylows splashed in their pool. Ethel the erumpent made a trumpeting noise—she had likely been feeling neglected by all the activity of the past few days, the poor dear.

"Are those—graphorns?" George had already started toward the enclosure. He turned to Newt, beaming. "I read the Ministry report stating that there were no more in Central Europe. The potions makers suddenly woke up, as if we hadn't been sending them warning notices for years that they needed to support conservation measures if they didn't want to be out one of the most standard ingredients of western potions lore, but now they're furious. They've been rationing their stores, which is a good idea anyway, I'd say. But now to find out—"

George had hopped up into the pen and was stroking the heads of graphorns as they approached him. Some sugarcarrots appeared in his hands, and the pups munched them happily.

"I got the mare off a trader, but the stallion was very canny. He'd been hiding in the forests of Eastern Hungary, and I had to use her to draw him out. It didn't take long before we had the next crop of graphorns. I was able to get a second stallion, from a trader in Beijing who hardly knew what he had on his hands. That one's in isolation now, as he came to me in pretty rough shape, but one or the other fillies will likely be ready to be bred in the next little while, and we'll need to find ways to increase the gene pool…"

"But this is wonderful!" George said.

"There's more," said Newt, getting excited. "I've got a nuudu here who's the last known creature outside of subsaharan preserve parks, and those are pitifully tiny, with only a few miles of prime Nuudu territory accounted for. And I've got a small school of shrake in a tank over here—"

George laughed. "It's amazing, Newton. This must have taken all the time since I was last here to do. You haven't been idle. Not that we thought you were, but you know how unkind rumours go around the office when someone's been out for such a long time."

Newt looked down. "Rumours do seem to follow me, yes," he said.

George hopped down to stand next to his son. "I'm sorry I put it that way. Your mother and I have always known what a hard worker you were. We were so pleased when you were sorted into Hufflepuff. Just the sort of attitude our family could do with a dose of, your mother said."

Newt gave a half smile. "Wasn't she disappointed none of us followed her into Ravenclaw?"

"I don't think so, no. And while I was pleased that Salsify and I share the same house—it's good to have a family member to root with you and quiddich matches—I never expected any of you to follow my path exactly. And Gloriana always says to look for balance in all things, and our family certainly has that."

"Sort of," Newt said, wondering if it qualified as balance even though he and his brother butted heads all the time that they weren't running away from one another as quickly as possible.

"Why's Theseus living here?" Newt asked bluntly. "I should have thought that getting the London House was one of his top reasons for signing up for the job of Lord Warden."

"Believe it or not, Theseus was sick for a time and had to be nursed here for a few weeks. While he was enjoying the last little bit of his convalescence, the Minister asked him if he could house a delegation from Mongolia in the Belgravia house while he wasn't using it. Theseus agreed, which surprised me, but he and the Minister seem to understand one another better than anyone else understands either of them, so it all seems fine, and we've adjusted to having Theseus here this autumn. It'll be odd when he goes, but if you and your wife and friends are staying here, that'll keep us from feeling the empty house."

They'd begun walking through the maze of pens, and paused when they'd come up to the area where Newt had built the little cabin for Tina. Somehow it embarrassed him to show it to his father. George, for his part, stepped up onto the porch, tested the post holding up the roof, and kicked at the entryway.

"Good solid construction," he said approvingly. Then he caught sight of the glinting lair of the niffler.

"Good heavens! Did you let him get hold of all that gold?" George frowned. "That is far more than I've seen any niffler able to hold onto. They usually steal it from each other until it's a little better distributed, and it gives them something to do outside of thieving from people."

"I know, but I've had this fellow since he was a baby, and I'm not sure how he'd do with other nifflers at this point. I never intend to let him out to treasure hunt, but unfortunately he seems to have a particular talent."

Newt grimaced. He really oughtn't to have let it go so far.

"You haven't been spending it, have you?" George said sternly. "That's the last thing you need your Uncle Ashley to get wind of at the ministry."

Newt chuckled bitterly.

"I haven't spent a farthing. If I had anything to my name after feeding this lot I would have been able to take care of Tina much more efficiently."

"Good." George looked very serious. "It's better that you came here anyway. Ashley has been having a time of it, trying to crack down on the anti-muggle sentiment that is growing with the spread of Gellert Grindelwald's ideas. He would certainly arrest his own favorite nephew if he caught you endangering the Statute of Secrecy in this fraught climate."

"Is it really as bad as all that? I've been involved in a few situations with Grindelwald, but they were all abroad, and he was contained.

"Perhaps his displays were kept from muggles, but his talk of 'taking our rightful place' has reached the ears of many wizards. More than I'd like to admit are sympathetic. They have forgotten the hard lessons of the past and want to step out of the shadows. It can sound very tempting, especially to people with a romanticized notion of muggles.

"No, it's good that you've come, especially since your wife's brother-in-law is himself a muggle, and an American at that."

Newt frowned.

"You don't think there's danger, do you?"

"I can't say. I haven't been down to London myself in months, but I am kept in the loop by several parties, and the situation is reaching a higher peak than was expected. But that's down in London. Up here, things are far less volatile. And besides our relationship with the muggles in the village is very different. This is the ideal place to be. It really is a nice place to raise a family, and there's plenty of grazing if you want to let your graphorns see the sunlight once more."

Newt looked at his father sideways. In a very roundabout way, this was getting dangerously close to the topic that had upset them all last time. He did not intend to stay at Blethering. Queen Elizabeth had conferred upon them all the muggle primogeniture succession rot, and he was not the firstborn son. He would ultimately have no say in the workings of the family estate were something to happen to his father, and he simply could not—would not—set himself or his new family up to be subject to Theseus's will.

"Let's go on to the far side. I've got an injured hippogriff I picked up in Moroco that I'd like to get up to the stables for Mother to have a look at."  
George sighed, but allowed Newt to change the subject.

A/N: I'm so sorry for making such a mess of posting on here. I do it in little parts on another site, then try to lump them together as decent-sized chapters for ffn, but I've made lots of mistakes lately, so to say I'm sorry, here's another chapter. I hope you enjoy it! And please do let me know if I've made any more mistakes!


	10. Chapter 10

Newt and George spent longer than Newt ought to have spared getting the injured hippogriff, who went by the name of Herbert, out of the case and into a stall in the stable. The other hippogriffs were offended and amazed to so suddenly have a stranger added to their number. Newt spent his time soothing ruffled feathers while his mother came in to look over Herbert's wing injury, which hadn't been mending nearly so well as Newt thought that it ought to be.

"Poor thing, shut up in a stuffy case for months on end while you gallivant back and forth!" Gloriana tsked disapprovingly.

"I happened to find him in Morocco, injured and starving in a bazaar, while I was searching for something to help Tina's memory. And I had to get back to her! If I hadn't 'shut him up' in my case, he'd have been dead in a week."

Newt was annoyed, but he knew by now that when an injured creature was before her, his mother's sympathies would lie with it rather than her own children.

"Certainly you had to get back to her, but do you really think I wouldn't have come to get a flightless hippogriff if you'd called on me? I can travel now that your father's at Blethering full time, you know. Or I could have sent Salsify. She'd have no trouble transporting a single hippogriff."

Newt frowned. This was a legitimate criticism. If there was one thing that would mobilize Gloriana Scamander to leave her Lake District lair it was an injured hippogriff. He could have easily handed the problem off to her. The thing was, at the time, as for most of his adult life he'd pretended not to have a family, at least not one richly backed with money, land, and connections. He had needed to prove to himself that he was a self-sufficient wizard who didn't need to rely on nepotism to get ahead.

He'd been suspicious when he'd been asked to write his textbook, unsure if this was a request on his own merits or some unasked for bit of goodwill from an elderly relative who thought of their eccentric nephew when asked about magical beasts. After a thorough grilling of the publisher, Newt was relieved to find that they hadn't been able to find a single wizard who'd said yes to the prospect of hiding out in bushes and freezing on boats in search of the world's magical beasts. Finally they'd appealed to the Control of Magical Creatures Department at the Ministry, and his boss had been only too glad to be rid of him for a year on the publisher's knut. Newt did have a bit of a reputation for sabotaging his own department's efforts at the extermination of magical pests, having been found hiding piskies in his coat rather than actually killing the creatures.

Still, now that he was older he could admit that it was foolish to let a creature like Herbert, who was already starting to be accepted by the hippogriff in the neighboring stall, suffer even slightly when Newt had such easy access to a better solution for him. That was not being self-sufficient, it was being petty and negligent.

"You're right, Mother. In the future, you may expect to find yourself called upon to airlift magical beasts out of precarious circumstances in all corners of the globe."

He smiled slightly, and Gloriana flicked the end of her wand at him, sending popping sparks out that sizzled harmlessly at him.

"Cheeky."

She sounded pleased.

A bell rang.

"Is it time to get dressed for dinner already?" Gloriana asked.

"It can't be—I haven't checked on Tina yet! And I have to send an owl to a terrifying witch!"

"Then you'd better get started. I had Salsify and Theseus on meal duty tonight so don't expect anything impressive," Gloriana warned.

Newt raised his eyebrows.

"Are you trying to force Jacob and Queenie into complying with your plan out of desperation? I could have done dinner if you'd asked."

"Well, the thought had crossed my mind that if they realized just how hard up we are here…"

"Mother," Newt sighed. "Well, if Herbert is alright with the others, I'm off to see to Tina."

Newt ran up to the house, entering by the French doors that led up to the Drawing Room. If Theseus was in the kitchen he had no desire to use the pantry door and run smack into him. Hewent in the opposite direction of the kitchen and took a carved wooden stair up to the unused west wing. It was dusty and drab up in this part of the house, and would need a thorough cleaning if Theseus was really planning to have his friends over in a couple of weeks, since this was where most of the guest bedrooms were located. Newt ducked under the appropriate tapestry of a Griffin clutching a serpent in one talon and tapped the second wooden panel from the right with his wand to activate the passageway leading from this wing into the family corridor.

He passed the turnoff that went to his parents' rooms and the stairs to the now unused nursery, and continued past Theseus's door, past the Green Room and Salsify's room. Newt slowed to a stop, and had his hand on the doorknob of his own room, when he heard the sounds of feminine laughter down the hallway. He turned abruptly, gripped his case, and strode toward the Rose Room. Queenie shouldn't have come up here without asking him! He hadn't noticed anyone coming along the path from the gamekeeper's cabin while he was in the stables with his parents, but he'd been distracted. If she'd snuck in he'd better go smooth things over before they became any rockier with his mother.

Newt rapped sharply on the door, which opened immediately at his touch. He involuntarily flinched when all the roses around the room went from white to shades of bright pink, as if the whole room were blushing. Distracted, Newt stumbled into the room, not immediately locating the sounds of his little sister laughing uproariously from the floor next to the sofa on which Tina was sitting, covering her hand with her mouth, her cheeks looking as pink as the room. He did not want to know what they had been talking about.

"Salsify? What on earth?" Newt was trying to shake off the discomfort of whatever the room was trying to insinuate, but all it was doing was upsetting him. And he readily saw a target, the annoying ginger-haired baby sister sprawled out on the floor, skirts very untidily scrunched to reveal that she was wearing riding breeches underneath them. He carefully set his case down on a rose-patterned pouff next to the dressing table, fingers automatically checking the locks before letting go. Then Newt came up and kicked Salsify lightly in the back of the knee.

"What are you doing in here? Tina was supposed to be resting. Did you need something?" He turned quickly to Tina, who was looking at Newt and his sister in amazement.

"You really do look exactly alike! Queenie and I never looked real similar. I always wished we had. Nobody thinks we're sisters at first glance. But there's no mistaking the resemblance with you guys."

Salsify scrambled up, looking put upon. "Hmph well, I may not be the most feminine, but no need to be insulting. I don't look exactly like him you know." She selfconsciously smoothed down her dress-front and skirts.

"No, I don't mean that—just, your faces and eyes, your hair! It's amazing. Of course you're both real cute, you don't need ta fish for compliments," Tina scolded as if Salsify really were her little sister.

Tina thought through what she'd just said, and cast a somewhat horrified look at Newt. He was simultaneously glad she still thought so and wanted to spare her and himself any more embarrassment, so he turned to his sister with her raised eyebrows. Salsify was looking between the two of them, then plucked a rose from a nearby vase and examined the medium-pink color with amusement.

"These were all white just moments ago, you know," she said loftily. "I can't recall the color-change being so rapid or so vivid at any other time!"

"What are you doing here Sal? Mother said you were supposed to be doing dinner!" Newt poked her in the side and frowned down at her.

"I was just saying hello to your new wife! She is my sister now you know, not that you were even polite enough to notify either of us of the other's existence," Salsify was pouting in an exaggerated manner, but Newt got the feeling that it wasn't all put on. He had usually been on better terms with Salsify than the rest of his family, so naturally she was at least as hurt as their parents. None of this was her fault, though. Newt sighed.

"I'm sorry, Sally. I did intend to bring Tina up here at some point, but very soon after we were married all our plans went pearshaped. And I did tell Tina about you—she said that it was hard to imagine me with a little sister, but that you sounded very interesting, and that she'd love to see your palmetto-orchids, which I'd told her about when we were in Florida, seeing many interesting varieties ourselves. Tina thought we should send you one, but unfortunately my occamies thought it was delicious."

Newt smiled faintly at the memory of Tina scolding the occamy that had slithered its way into the shed, but looked around uncomfortably when the color seemed to have gone out of the flowers around them. They didn't seem to have gone back to white, but instead had faded instantly without quite wilting. Tina was looking at her feet and frowning.

"I'm sorry," Newt said, and sighed. Salsify was looking around, horrified.

"Me too," she hastened to say. "I didn't mean—I mean, Newt told me you weren't well. That something had gone wrong with your memory. But you were so nice and fun to talk to—just like my friends at school—and I kind of forgot what he said. I've never had a sister, you know. I really enjoyed hearing about your trip over and I hope we can all investigate Newt's case together. I'm sure we'll be able to keep you safe from the erumpent, Tina."

Newt nodded slowly. "I still don't know what upset Ethel, but with enough wizards who how to say, specialize in large animal care, it should be safe for you to go down again and figure out what's going on."

Tina looked up at them, both so earnestly hoping to cheer her up, and after a long moment she started to giggle. Newt and Salsify looked at each other in bafflement.

"You just both had the same little look on your faces!" Tina said "It's too funny!"

Salsify smiled, glad that whatever upset had struck Tina seemed to have faded away. "Well, I'm going to go set the table. Theseus kicked me out of the kitchen, so I said I'd do the table instead. Delphi knows what he's going to come up with alone though. I think I've got some ripe mangoes in my greenhouse if you'd rather not risk sitting down to the table."

Newt grimaced. "Normally I'd be more than happy to take you up on your offer, but tonight we've got to all sit down and try to mend fences about Queenie."

He turned seriously to Salsify. "Are you going to be alright having dinner with a natural legilimens? I noticed you bolted pretty quickly earlier."

Tina frowned.

"Hey, I don't think you guys need to worry so much about Queenie—she's very goodhearted you know. Even if she learned something by accident, she'd never use it against you."

Salsify looked at Tina pityingly. For a brief moment, she looked like a mature adult speaking to a child. It was very disconcerting.

"Unfortunately we are bound by certain oaths that have nothing to do with goodheartedness. It's duty plain and simple. And I was just taken by surprise earlier. If Newt the Hufflepuff with all his _feelings_ can hold her off, then I can too."

"Watch it, you," Newt said, taking her by the backs of the arms and turning her toward the doorway. "Now go."

He got her started with a shove between the shoulders. She glowered at him over her shoulder and her wand appeared in her hand.

"Make sure you dress for dinner. Mother wants to do the formal thing."

"Fine," said Newt.

"Dinner begins when you hear the gong! Don't be late!" Salsify singsonged. She got through the door, and then there was an ominous flash. Newt went over and tried to open it, only to hear Salsify's laughter from outside.

"Salsify, open this door right now! If you don't I'll open it myself and you'd better watch out!"

"Don't you dare—you'll damage the room! Mother will be livid. It'll open itself in a quarter of an hour. See you then!" He put his ear to the door and could hear her little feet pounding on the stairs.

-o-o-o-

Newt turned back to Tina, who had advanced to the middle of the room and was standing on the labyrinthine rug with an amused yet confused expression on her face.

"She locked us in?" Tina asked. "That's weird! I thought we were getting along great."

"You probably were, but she lives to torture me."

Tina stepped closer. "Just you? Not your other brother?"

"Well, him too, but he's not such an easy target," Newt smiled a little. Salsify certainly had scored a few points off Theseus in her young life, and in appreciation Newt had never tried too hard to avoid her pranks.

Tina smiled at him, and Newt noted with both relief and concern that the color of the roses around them was deepening again. He hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable by talking about her other self—that elusive person that he'd come to think of as his Tina. Queenie seemed more comfortable with this younger-seeming version of Tina, but she completely caught him off his guard. She was much harder for him to understand or anticipate, but she was at the heart of things, still Tina, wasn't she?

She smiled at him, and took another step, so that she was right before him. Newt glanced around. Was the room up to its previous tricks? Nothing seemed different. He glanced at the rug with the maze on it, but could see no little figures. Perhaps Tina really had become more comfortable with him. After all, they had spoken quite honestly with one another in the room at the Leaky Cauldron that morning. But he couldn't relax—Tina still wasn't entirely herself. She was different, possibly just in that he was such an unknown quantity for her. He'd drawn such comfort from the fond familiar way that she'd looked at him. That was one of the things he'd thought about when he'd been shocked to find himself reacting very seriously to Tina's half-joking proposal of marriage.

He had perhaps been staring at her a little too long while he'd been thinking. Tina licked her lips and swallowed. Newt realized with some alarm that they had somehow drifted quite close to one another for those small actions to be quite so apparent.

"Salsify seems nice. I'd gone out to find the washroom, and she showed me around and helped me find my way back," Tina said. "Even though she locked the door on us, I really like your sister. She's not as serious as the rest of you guys."

Newt smiled. Salsify and Tina were perhaps closer in mental age at the moment than Tina was to the others. But more than that he, Queenie, and Jacob had all been under great strain handling Tina's injury and the difficulties of their journey.

"We're not usually quite such bad company," Newt said wryly.

"No—I didn't mean that," Tina said. She looked up at him, and worried her lip slightly with her teeth. Newt took a breath. Rose petals and Tina. Not helping. He looked to the side. He needed to stay calm.  
Tina slowly stepped even closer, slipping her arms around him. So close, he could feel that she was shaking. He held completely, painfully still. What was this, all of a sudden? But he had started it downstairs by embracing her in front of his mother, hadn't he?

"Tina," he said, in a quiet half-strangled voice, "are you feeling alright?"

Instead on stepping back, Tina just buried her head in his shoulder, looking away from him. Her arms wrapped tighter around him and he couldn't help but put his own comfortingly around her. The last thing in the world that he wanted was for her to feel rejected by him, not when he so desperately missed her every second of the day.

"I've been thinking about it since before, when you hugged me downstairs. I don't remember meeting you, or getting married, or—" she gulped but went bravely on, "getting pregnant. There's all this scary stuff going on—getting attacked, losing my memory, healers and potion-makers and wild beasts. But you still smell familiar. The way it feels when you hug me—it doesn't seem scary like I thought it might. Maybe she knew what she was doing. You know, the other me."

"Oh, Tina," Newt pulled her tight, tucking her head under his chin. He breathed in, and sighed deeply. She still smelled and felt like Tina, if perhaps a more tentative version on herself. He closed his eyes and tried to get himself together. He drew a breath and forced himself to break the moment.

"I think maybe we're getting a little ahead of ourselves. Not that I blame you in the slightest. Something," he stopped to glare around the room at its bouquets of bright red roses, "has obviously been doing its best to put ideas in our heads."

He was very careful not to push Tina away, but instead turned with his arm around her. He gave the bed a wide berth as he steered them both over to the green sofa in the corner. Since it was not rose-print it seemed a bit safer than the rest of the decor. Newt settled Tina down on one side, and sat, leaving a gap between them that he tried not to make too obvious by turning toward her as he searched his pockets for quill and parchment. It seemed too quiet, and he was trying desperately to keep Tina from feeling as if he'd put space between them, though wasn't that literally what he'd done?  
So he started babbling.

"Since I last saw you I went to see Queenie and Jacob, who seem to be settling comfortably into the cabin. They've tentatively agreed to stay on and help Mother with Theseus' guests. Then I ended up spending the rest of the afternoon as most afternoons, and mornings, and in fact late nights are spent around here. You'll soon see if we're really to stay here for the next few months."

He rifled through his pockets and triumphantly pulled a feather from his pocket only to find that it was not actually a quill, but one of Frank the Thunderbird's pinfeathers from his last molt. It was far too large for a serviceable quill so Newt tossed it beside him on the sofa.

"Doing what?" Tina said a little impatiently. Newt glanced up and saw that Tina's arms were crossed and she looked quite vexed with him.

"Hmm? Oh, serving as large-animal veterinarian and nursemaid to magical beasts of all stripes."

He had not yet found a quill, but had unearthed a roll of parchment. Figuring out what he was after, Tina rose and went to the small roll-top desk in the corner and pulled out a quill and inkwell.

"Thank you. In all the excitement, I'm afraid I haven't yet written to Jane Moon-Leanfear. Do you have that packet that she gave you? I'd like to be able to give the owls an address. They're marvelously clever, but as I'm already cutting it close here I'd prefer to give them as much to go on as I can."

"Um, I think we packed it in my trunk." Tina pulled her wand from a pocket inside her skirt, and as she waved it, the clasps on his case snapped open, and Tina's trunk floated up and out.

Newt shot off the sofa and dodged around the hovering trunk, slamming the case shut. He'd completely forgotten that she'd got her wand back earlier to do the packing. He looked around, sniffing in case Dougal had somehow managed to get out but the aroma of roses was too much.

"Oh no, oh dear. Really, Tina," Newt said, breathing a little quickly from the adrenaline of his unexpected sprint.

"They might get out. Remember the niffler?"

Tina was frowning. "It went up the stairs of a big building. There were nomajs inside."

Newt had meant at St. Mungo's, but this sounded a little like the first time—the very first time. Who had she seen first, he wondered, him or the niffler? He'd never asked.

"Do you remember anything else?" Newt asked eagerly.

"Huh?" she asked, blinking. "Well knock before you come back up. I've gotta change clothes before dinner, right?"

It took Newt a minute to catch up.

"Oh, yes, certainly."

He rapidly descended into his case. He looked around a bit. The niffler was in his lair, but Dougal was not visible. This didn't mean that he wasn't there, however. And if Salsify had locked the door, he'd have to still be up in the room, so they'd soon know. Newt looked half-heartedly around for spare clothes, but decided that he'd better get on with transfiguring what he was already wearing because unless he finally made it into his room in Blethering House and found his mother had kept up his wardrobe in his absence, it was not very likely that he was going to find black tie anything.

There was a mirror against the wall that had been mostly obscured by snowshoes and harnesses far too large for any mundane horse. Newt cleared it out and stood before it as he tried to get his clothes to behave. Finally he managed something between muggle formalwear and wizarding styles—a black tailcoat and trousers with white shirt and waistcoat and black bow tie. He looked at his brown boots and reluctantly transfigured them to a black shine. Unfortunately this also made them less comfortable. Newt wasn't sure why, but despite being his own favorite clothes at the core, making them look more formal always made them feel that way as well.

He tried to ignore the creatures' pleas for attention—he'd made sure everyone was fed and watered earlier—and ascended the stair. He knocked clearly and politely.

"Oh! Uh, one sec!" He heard a few odd sounds, and then Tina called out: "Come on in!"

Newt climbed out and saw Tina, now in a beaded dress that showed her knees, especially when, as now, she was tackling a magical creature on the floor.

"Help!"

Tina had a good grip on Dougal, but he kept phasing in and out of visibility in alarm.

Newt rushed over and grasped Dougal gently but firmly. The demiguise wrapped his arms around Newt, chattering in agitation.

"Oh no, Dougal, she didn't mean to scare you. If anything you scared her," Newt scolded.

Tina was shaking, and scrambling up from her awkward position on the floor.

"He certainly did! I was getting ready when he jumped on top of me! I couldn't see him at all. Why would he do that?"

Newt pet Dougal carefully. He didn't want to upset Tina again, but he didn't want her to be too hard on Dougal.

"It was a game that he likes to play with you. Dougal was a bit of a favorite of yours, once the two of you became friends. He used to jump on your shoulders to try to surprise you. You in turn would try to notice before he ambushed you, so that you'd catch him. Your auror training helped you to be more aware than the average witch or wizard, and the two of you enjoyed the game."

Tina calmed down as she took that in. She reached her hand out.

"Sorry Dougal. There's a lot of stuff that I don't remember," she grabbed a white rose from the vase next to the bed and offered it to him.

Dougal slowly reached out, took the rose, and chomped the blossom off happily.

"I think you're forgiven," Newt said. "Let me get him settled back in the case."

When he turned around, Tina was waiting, smoothing her hands over the royal blue and silver beadwork of her dress. He stared for a moment.

"Well, is this okay? You look real fancy. This was the nicest thing I could find in there," she gestured to the trunk.

She looked beautiful, of course, and just like her own wonderful self. He shook his head.

"It's not?" She walked back over to her trunk that she'd put on top to the chest at the foot of her bed. It had clothes spilling out of it in cascades and her pajamas and a slip were pooled on the floor. "I don't know what to pick then."

"I think you look lovely, Tina. But at dinner with my parents, who are very much of the generation of long skirts—most often for wizards as well as witches, muggle clothes being a relatively new trend here—you might feel a little more comfortable like this."

Newt waved his wand and the beadwork wove itself out into a floor-length skirt with a small train in the back. He indicated a full length mirror to the left of the windows that hadn't been there a moment before.

"Is that alright with you?"

Tina swished over to the mirror. She smiled.

"Looks good to me."

"Then let's go down."

He held his hand out to her, and Tina, grinning, took it. Newt felt a little thrill of both pleasure and aprehension. This was Tina, and he needed to be careful with her. This also wasn't Tina, and he needed to be careful with himself. And somehow in between all that he still had to get an owl off to the midwife. Rats.

-o-o-o-

Newt and Tina appeared downstairs, Tina's dress very elegantly transfigured He let Salsify take Tina to the lounge, where his mother was handing out sherry, and ran out to meet Queenie and Jacob before they came up to the house. Since he had been locked up with Tina since he'd heard that it was expected, he assumed Salsify had neglected to tell them about the dress code for dinner. Annoyingly, he really could not aparate over to where they were, so he ended up sprinting down the path to cut them off before they reached sight of the house. He most especially didn't want Jacob to be embarrassed, since the baker had seemed a little more impressed with his family than was either necessary or healthy.

He caught them as they were coming out of the wood, in the same clothes they'd been in earlier.

"What's up Newt?" called Jacob.

"Is it Tina?" asked Queenie, pulling out her wand.

"No," he puffed, jogging over to them. Queenie started to put her wand back in a pocket in her dress. Newt held up a hand.

"You might want to keep that out. I forgot to tell you it's black tie for dinner. It's usually not, but you are guests, and Theseus probably guilted Mother into it. He loves to impress in any way possible. Sorry. Could you, you know?"

He gestured between himself and Jacob and went ahead and took Jacob's overcoat off his shoulders.

Jacob looked at Newt like he was crazy.

"Sorry to tell you buddy, but ain't no amount of magic gonna make your clothes fit me!"

Queenie tittered. "No, honey, he means I should do this!"

She looked him over carefully, waved her wand in an intricate pattern, and nodded her head. Jacob's brown suit darkened and shifted in cut, his long tie curling up into a black bow and his blue shirt bleached to bright white. Even his brown shoes shifted to highly polished black.

His eyebrows raised, and he whistled. "Wow!"

Newt had caught his breath a little better, and looked at Jacob critically.

"Maybe a scarf, since you're coming in from the cold, he recommended. "It is to be white, cashmere, with fringe."

"Okay," said Queenie. "I've seen those."

Newt helped Jacob resettle his coat on his shoulders and held Queenie's while she fixed herself up. The dress that she chose she actually summoned from her suitcase in the cabin.

"If you'd just told me that we was dressing up, Newt, this woulda been so much easier!" she scolded. However, Queenie loved dressing up, even in a dark and chilly wood, so when he was allowed to turn back around Queenie was beaming, resplendent in a long dress with pink-gold shimmers.

"Impressive," Newt smiled.

"You can say that again!" Jacob laughed, offering Queenie his arm. They all walked back to the house, and Newt told them about the events of the day, taking care of Herbert and getting him settled with the other hippogriffs as well as settling Tina into her room.

"Now if we can just get through this dinner," he finished.

"What's the problem?" asked Jacob. "I thought we were good with your parents now."

"Well, I hardly need say it, but Queenie will have to be on her very best behavior or Salsify with have to leave the table. And that'd be a shame because she and Tina seem to have hit it off. But the real issue here is that Theseus is cooking. Sal was supposed to help to make sure things were edible, but they quarreled and she ran off."

"Jeez, your brother sounds like a real troublemaker," said Jacob.

"Oh, he is," said Newt. "And please don't forget it. When he tries he can be very charming. I've never thought so, but I've seen enough other people fall for it that I hope you will be on the lookout."

"Alright, alright, Newt," said Queenie. "I don't think we'll have any trouble."

They entered the house by a side door that allowed Newt to hang Queenie and Jacob's coats before proceeding into the family areas in the back of the house. They met the rest of the family minus Theseus in the Drawing Room. Salsify greeted them and stuck a sherry in each of their hands before she sent Jacob over to speak to Gloriana about his bakery and Queenie over to George to make small talk about working at MACUSA versus the Ministry of Magic. Newt was quite impressed with the improvement in her hostessing skills.

Salsify gave him a cheeky wink and went back to the sofa where she and Tina were already giggling over their drinks. Newt shook his head at her, and leaned over the back of the sofa to speak directly in his sister's ear. "I think that's quite enough for Tina, Sal." Newt said.

"Why? If she wants to get completely sloshed to avoid the awkwardness of not remembering your family who never knew about her, then why shouldn't she? It's what I would do."

Newt sighed. They were about to go in to dinner, and short of taking the glass from Tina's hand he could hardly do anything about it. Or could he? He strode over and pretended to be looking at the bookcase. He pulled back his jacket just enough to wave his wand, and there. He'd changed the sherry out for lemon cordial. It was Tina's favorite, so she was unlikely to complain, and it was almost the right color. He walked over to her and gave a little wave.

He sat next to her on the sofa.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Of course," she said. "I was just telling your sister about Ilvermorny, and she was telling me a little bit about Hogwarts. It sounds amazing. Salsify, did you play quiddich?" Tina asked.

"Indeed I did!" she chirped. "I was Seeker for my last three years."

"Oh really? That's neat. I never actually was on the team, but I played with my friends."

"Flying comes pretty easily to this family. Mummy and Daddy both played at school, and Theseus as well. Come to think of it quiddich may be the one thing we all have in common. Newt played too. Until they chucked him out, of course. He was recruited really young, in his second year, right Newt?"

Newt was never quite comfortable talking about his expulsion, especially not in the same room as his parents, for whom that had been an absolute nightmare come to life. So he shrugged and nodded.

"I played Chaser," he said. "For four years."

"And then instead of taking the professional quiddich position he was offered, he opted to chase wizards who hadn't registered their manticores or what have you. Then he decided to cut out the middle man and chase the beasts directly," said Salsify, laughing.

Newt scowled a little at this flippant summation of his career, but she wasn't exactly wrong. Perhaps he should have given Salsify lemon cordial as well.

A gong sounded, and they filed through to the dining room. Newt held out his arms for Tina and Salsify, who took them and laughed across his chest over an anecdote from Salsify's school days involving a toad, some peppermint whizzes and a collapsible cauldron left in the girl's bathroom. Newt rolled his eyes a little, but was very pleased to see Tina in such good spirits. He settled her into a seat at the long table. Only the bottom half was set for dinner. Newt was pleased that they hadn't gone to the trouble of shortening it. It was ridiculous enough that they had to sit there in jackets and gowns and eat whatever Theseus has managed to cook off of silver plates and a gleaming white tablecloth.

Just as Newt was settling himself next to Tina, Theseus appeared, in his crisp white shirt and perfectly black suit and tie with his red-gold hair gelled and gleaming. There was no evidence to suggest that he'd been cooking.

"Not there, little brother. Husband and wife never sit next to one another, you know that. No, you sit over here by Mrs Kowalski, and I'll take your place by Tina. Mr. Kowalski, why don't you sit between Mother and Salsify."

Newt frowned, but took the seat on the end by Queenie that Theseus had pointed to. This was ridiculous. It was just friends and family—all family, really, since even Jacob was supposed to be related by marriage to himself and Tina. There was absolutely no need for all this foolishness.

Once they were all seated, Theseus waved his wand and a silver covered dish lowered itself into the middle of the table. The cover vanished, revealing a steaming and very good-smelling steak and kidney pie. Newt's were not the only raised eyebrows at the table. Theseus was not known for his prowess in the kitchen, and while the rest of the family could occasionally pull off something further along the scale toward tasty than merely edible, this big, beautiful pie was suspicious.

"It looks lovely," said Queenie.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kowalski," said Theseus, smiling charmingly at her as the pie neatly divided and served each person at the table.

"I'm only sorry that I'm such a poor cook that I couldn't properly manage courses. It's not every night that our family grows in such a surprising burst."

Salsify caught Newt's eye and looked from the pie to Theseus with narrowed eyes. She wasn't buying this humble chef routine any more than he was.

"Well you've done a nice job on the crust," said Jacob. "And if you'll give us a few minutes in the kitchen later, Queenie and I can probably make up a little dessert without too much fuss."

"How kind of you," said Theseus. "Salsify had said she would handle dessert, but then she rushed out of the kitchen. Doubtless she couldn't keep herself from our lovely new sibling."

"Hey!" said Salsify. "You kicked me out of the kitchen! You called me—"

"Sal, that's enough," George said mildly from the head of the table. "Let's just be glad we have something edible to eat after getting all gussied up."

Salsify frowned. She was wearing a shimmering blue dress, a little higher at the neck than those of the Goldstein sisters, whose New York fashions were a little more risque than on this side of the Atlantic. But thankfully he'd been able to convince Tina to go with the long hemline, and Queenie had naturally done the same, so they were all roughly propper next to Gloriana's more mature but still lovely gold chiffon gown.

Newt was eating carefully, not quite convinced that the pie was not going to turn out to have tacks in it or give them all food poisoning. Theseus was asking polite questions about Jacob's bakery, about sales and tarriffs and business things that Jacob seemed all too happy to talk about. Queenie was telling Salsify about New York fashions and the jazz scene there, and Theseus looked like he was using some sort of charm to listen to both conversations at once.

Tina was gulping down the wine. Finally she set the glass down, and Newt tried to surreptitiously change the wine into purple hibiscus juice, which was the only thing that he could think of that was the same color. Gloriana asked Tina a question, to which she nodded and then took a big sip so that she wouldn't have to give a further response. When she tasted the sour juice, her face went all scrunched, and she made a speaking sound while turning her head to see what to do. Finally she managed to swallow, but some went down the wrong way, so she started coughing.

To try to take the attention away from Tina, Newt turned to his brother, and rudely interrupted his conversation with Jacob.

"So Theseus, this pie is very good. Where did you get it?"

Theseus' lips drew into a thin line.

"As I was saying, little brother, I made it. Perhaps you think you could have done better—"

"I don't," said Newt. "I'm nowhere near an expert like Queenie or Jacob. But I know you couldn't have made this. Where did it come from?"

Theseus sneered. "It came from the kitchen. If you need to go feel that the oven's still warm, be my guest."

Gloriana made a tutting noise and put her hand to her forehead. George frowned.

"Newt, leave off. For goodness' sake, can't we just all be pleased that we have a half-decent dinner to eat. Please don't cause a scene in front of our guests."

Newt looked over to Salsify, who was still focused on Tina's coughs. She summoned Tina's wine glass.

Newt quickly spoke. "Don't you think the pie is a little too good to be true?" he asked her.

Salsify wouldn't be deterred. "I think what's really weird is that you changed out Tina's wine for hibiscus juice," she took a sip. "Blech, you didn't even bother to add any sugar."

Everyone at the table was staring at Newt.

"Alcohol is not an optimally nutritious substance for humans—"

Salsify grimaced.

"So you're determined to control her environment like she's one of the creatures you keep shut up in a box? Taking after Mummy and Daddy in working out optimal care and feeding charts? Have you ever considered that what those poor beasts might want is a little bit of freedom?"

Tina was staring at Newt with wide eyes during this.

He tried to respond. "I know that it might seem unduly protective—" Everyone from Queenie to George seemed to raise an eyebrow at this except Tina, who was looking very hurt. "But Tina is injured, and as such, needs to be looked after."

Salsify snorted. "That sounds awful."

Theseus looked well pleased at how the tables had be turned and added, "I never imagined you as a husband at all, and now come to find out you're a controlling one. How strange life is."

"Yes," said Gloriana, waving her wand and changing out Tina's glass. "How strange indeed to wait eighteen long years for your eldest son to do his duty, settle down, and continue the family line, to find quite suddenly that the second son brings home a lovely wife. Let us take the good with the bad. Is that alright my dear?"

Tina looked around. "I—I need a minute."

She got up from the table and bolted out the dining room door. Newt threw his napkin on the table and followed after her. He turned at the door.

"Please excuse us. Enjoy the rest of your dinner."

Then he hurried after Tina's rapid footsteps.

-o-o-o-

Newt looked around, but could not spot Tina. He paused and thought for a moment, at the crossroads of corridors that was the entry to the magical part of the house. She might have run outside, but Tina was overall a practical sort of person, and while this could be easily overridden when she was sniffing out wrongdoing, she was unlikely to seek out the danger of unfamiliar terrain at night. She was most likely to have gone up to her room, and Newt relaxed upon realizing this. Then he bolted up the stairs, remembering that he'd left his case on her floor without so much as the muggleworthy latch left on.

He reached the Rose Room, and found the entryway a mass of seething thorny wooden vines.

"Tina!" he shouted, pounding on the wall next to the doorway, where he wouldn't cut himself. "Tina please let me in! We can talk, or not, but I've left my case in there, and there are things inside that you oughtn't to touch without proper understanding."

The slithering motion of the vines slowed, and Newt addressed the door directly.

"That's right—she might be hurt while you're messing about trying to seem threatening. Do you want Tina to get injured because you're playing at misunderstood lovers? We're already married—I already love Tina—and if you do not let me in this instant I will not be responsible for what I have to do to you."

He pulled out his wand, and waved it menacingly. Thankfully, the vines receded, and the doorway opened. Newt was glad, as he really hadn't wanted to damage the house, especially this part that had become so distinctly developed. But he didn't stop, he just looked around the room, the couch, the bed, the rug, all empty, save for the stray biliwig that fluttered around a bouquet on the nightstand. Looking to the side, Newt saw his case standing open, and he plunged down the stair without a second glance.

"Tina!" he called, throwing open the door of the shed. "Tina! Where are you?"

All was relatively calm, though several of the creatures trumpeted or called for food and attention when they saw him. Newt checked the most powerful large animals first, and was pleased to see that the nudu and erumpent were well within bounds. Newt couldn't immediately spot the niffler, so he'd likely have to tell his mother to count the silver and check the vault, though that was probably well-protected enough that the niffler was the one in danger of being caught.

Newt decided to stop shouting and listen. His emotions were running high, and that was most likely the problem. Breathing slowly, he began to look around. He checked the graphorns, mooncalves and grindylows, the special kappa pool near the back, and the giant pouffle enclosure beyond the grain storage. Then he turned his attention to the cabins. Queenie and Jacob's was nearest, and it was empty. The one he'd made or Tina was also empty, the solid hardwood bed he'd lifted from her aunt's cottage, taking up most of the available floor space. Where could she be?

"Tina?" he called again, this time in a more moderate tone of voice. There was no answer, but a low animal hum drew him over to the palms near where some primate habitats were suspended from the ceiling. This was near the bowtruckles' wiggentree, so Newt stopped in to see Pickett.

"Have you all seen Tina? She's a dark-haired witch, about so tall—"

This was met with tiny sounds of derision.

"Ah yes, of course you know what Tina looks like. I forget—her appearance hasn't changed at all. Just everything else," he muttered.

This was met with a sharp sob, and Newt jerked around, finally locating the sound as coming from one of the suspended wicker balls. He spun it round gently, until the opening was revealed, and he found Tina, curled up with Dougal inside the small sphere.

Both Tina and Dougal were glaring at him, Tina's eyes red-rimmed from tears. Newt felt awful. He hadn't meant to hurt her in the first place, and then he'd just made it worse by spouting sulky words to the bowtruckles. This really wasn't like him, at least not Newt Scamander, grown-up Magizooligist, which he'd worked so hard to become. This was more like the angry, broken-hearted boy who'd been forced home with his disapproving family after getting chucked out of school for the endangerment of human life.

"I'm sorry," he said, kneeling on the ground before the sphere, so that Tina could look down at him. She did not choose to, and avoided meeting his eyes.

"I appologize for changing out your drinks without asking. I didn't want you to have to refuse, perhaps leading to questions about the baby."

"Your parents already know. And Queenie and Jacob too," Tina said finally. "Why is it so important to you to keep it a secret from your sister?"

"It's not."

And it really wasn't. Yes, Newt had told himself that it would be nice for Salsify and Tina to get to know one another, but his real motivation in all this was to keep his brother from hearing that there was a new heir on the way.

"I got agitated. I was worried—well, you know that my brother has an important post that he's inherited from my father."

"I get it," said Tina, somewhat tiredly. "But what in the world does that have to do with you and me having a baby?"

Newt frowned. "When Blethering was granted to Norbert Scamander in the sixteenth century, the Queen—which always struck me as odd, since she was a woman herself—bound up the succession for the post in the muggle right of primogeniture, meaning that the first-born son of the current Lord gets the lot. When father dies, Theseus will get the lot. If there are no male heirs, the nearest male relative gets everything. So naturally, muggles and wizards alike don't want to kiss their homes goodbye if the head of household dies, so they usually try to hedge their bets by having more than one boy in the family. This has worked just fine over the centuries, but where it all went pear-shaped was when my grandfather died suddenly when I was two.

"Father had to take over a post that he wasn't expecting to have for several decades, and there was no one at home to properly train Theseus in the other aspects of the job, which he didn't exactly take to like a kelpie to water. Mother filled in where she could, but Father basically had to pull double duty until Theseus finished university—he went to a muggle place called Oxford, and seemed to enjoy it a great deal. But things went wrong again, and Father decided to retire early, leaving Theseus as Lord Warden. And Theseus hasn't produced an heir."

"What would happen if he died?" asked Tina.

"Right now? Disaster. I'm it. As in, if something happened to Theseus, unless father could somehow be persuaded to come out of retirement, I would automatically assume the title. That's the last thing that I want, and the last thing Theseus wants. But if you and I were to have a boy—well, there is some precedent for the Lord Warden adopting a relative as their heir. Alternatively, if I had a son, it would make me look like a safer prospect for insuring the continuation of the office. And I just—I don't want him to get any ideas."

"You think your brother would want to take our baby?" Tina looked very skeptical. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but your brother doesn't exactly seem like a baby kind of guy."

Despite his upset, Newt had to laugh slightly. "No, he's not. In fact the whole idea is so distasteful to him that he has never brought himself to marry despite the fact that having a son would improve his position."

"Why does his position need improving? He seems to like the whole schmoozing with important people thing." Tina wiped her eyes. If nothing else, this whole tangent with Theseus seemed to be distracting her from her own troubles.

"Well, that is the official part of the position. But there are other duties..."

"Like what?" asked Tina, leaning forward in the basket to see him past Dougal's fur.

Newt bit his lip.

"I'm not sure I ought to tell you about all that yet."

Tina frowned. "Why not?"

Newt hedged. She was his wife, but she was not exactly all there. Moreover, her sister was a very curious untrained legilimens. He wouldn't be able to tell Tina anything that she couldn't put together on her own by reading certain chapters of A History of Medieval Magic in Great Britain, but still, if Queenie knew more about what to look for it might make it easier for her to pick out some of the details that needed to remain secret.

"I hope that I can tell you, and soon. But I'd like for us all to settle in a little better. Why, in less than two weeks, we'll be back in London to see Professor Slughorn again, and with any luck he will have come up with something that could help restore your memory."

Tina curled back up into the wicker ball, turning away from him. She kicked her foot against his shoulder to set it gently spinning again, so that he could no longer see her.

"Oh yeah," came her muffled voice from within the orb. "That would just solve all your problems then, wouldn't it. You'd be able to get rid of me once and for all and have her back."

"That's not it at all! You are her." Newt was trying very hard to keep his patience. This was Tina, hurting and in unfamiliar territory.

"Then why do you keep all these secrets from me? You don't want to tell me anything. Don't want to let me in your case, don't want me around at all!"

"Tina, that's not true."

"You went out with your friends, you've been away half the time we've been in England, and more than half the time since we got here."

"I have had to get everyone settled, Tina, not just you. But if you need something, you can always tell me."

Tina shifted, and Dougal scrambled out of the wicker ball ahead of her, making it spin and bob. Tina came to a stop with her bare toes touching the floor, sitting on the edge of the opening of the basket right in front of where he knelt. Her long skirts were bunched up around her, and Newt noticed that her stockings and shoes were discarded among some ferns beside the primate habitat.

"I just want you to stay, with me."

Newt looked bewildered. "I'm not going anywhere," he said.

"No," Tina looked frustrated. She reached out, grasping his left hand in both of hers, bringing it to her lap, which pulled the suspended basket slightly closer to him. He could see her eyes. They sparkled with the intensity of her feeling, just like they always had.

"I mean, I don't want to always feel like you can't wait to get rid of me, like you're searching everywhere for someone to take my place. I may not be your Tina, but I'm Tina nevertheless. I'm here. Why can't you just...be with me?"

"What?" Newt shifted uncomfortably, trying to pull back. Since Tina had a grip on his arm this only served to pull the hanging ball further off the ground so that hi was supporting more of its weight than was comfortable. "As I said, I'm not going to leave you, Tina. We're married, even if you don't remember, and we're in this together."

Tina huffed a little in annoyance, but disappointment was plain on her face. Newt was not entirely sure what she wanted from him. But, perhaps Tina wasn't either. It had to be difficult, seeing not just him but Queenie and Jacob as well always looking at her for that spark of memory that they longed to see. Still, Tina would never forgive him if he gave up on her treatment because her younger or less complete self was feeling insecure. Tina had worked so hard to overcome such insecurities, and it wouldn't do justice to her memory to let that happen.

As if sensing the direction his thoughts were taking, Tina started speaking quickly. "I'm not saying I don't want to get better. It sure would be nice to be treated like a grown-up witch who knows what she's doing. I guess, I guess talking to your sister really made me feel like I was missing out on something. She's never met me before—any kind of me. So she wasn't expecting me to be this other person. And I read the midwife's notes—there's a lot of changes that come with having a baby anyway. I may never be the Tina you want again. If you can't like me along the way, then maybe, maybe this isn't going to work."

Tears started pouring down Tina's face, and Newt was tron by the urge to comfort her and the sudden reminder within her words that he had not sent the owl to Jane Moon-Leanfear as promised, and was now in danger of having her do a location spell on Tina and show up at their doorstep. That wouldn't go well for anyone. No, he had to get the owl off right away. But Tina's streaming tears were turning into silent sobs, and there was no way he could leave her alone.

"Blast," he said quietly.

Tina looked up at him, and New used her grip on his arm to pull her up from the hanging sphere. She pressed against him, and he found he could do no more of less than to hold her quietly for a few moments until her sobs quieted. Newt leaned his head against hers, and found himself giving her forehead a kiss as he pulled away. He really shouldn't confuse Tina. Was that dratted room having an effect inside his case? But no, that would be impossible. She just felt like Tina, her own self, and he had been so ecstatic to get to be her husband, to finally hold her and be with her, that he'd become accustomed to the closeness in that short twenty-four days that they had been married. Newt sighed. He couldn't let himself get depressed. He had to keep it together so that he could be there for Tina.

"Tina? Newt?" called a voice from far off. "Are you guys in here?"

"Queenie must've got past the roses," said Tina softly.

"More impressively, she must have got my mother to let her into the family apartments."

He found a clean handkerchief in his pocket, and gave it to Tina, who wiped her eyes. Newt kept his arm around Tina and guided her carefully back out past the niffler's empty lair and the wiggentree with his saucy bowtruckles. They were coming up toward the shed, when they heard a snorting below. Queenie hurried down the stair and out to meet them just as Newt pushed Tina behind him and turned, wand raised, twoard the sound.

"Ethel?" Newt said, taking a step forward. "What on earth is wrong with her?"

For the erumpent was running at the magical barrier that separated her paddock from the others, and Newt was extremely glad that he'd already reinforced it. He stepped up to the top of the enclosure, waving his hand behind him at Tina and Queenie to stay back. Ethel did not seem upset by him approaching, but when he cautiously passed the barrier, she moved her head with astounding speed for such a bulky creature, tossing him to the side so that she could get between him and the front of the enclosure where she was still stamping and pawing, her attention fixed on Tina and Queenie who stood by the door to the shed. Newt looked under Ethel, and could see Queenie trying to pull Tina inside.

"What should we do?" called Tina.

At her voice, the erumpent's trumpeting call sounded again, and she lowered her head, horn glowing.

"GET OUT," Newt answered, loud as he could shout.

Tina and Queenie turned, gathering their skirts, and ran into the shed, the door slamming behind them as they went.

It took some time to calm down the erumpent, though she seemed ready enough to settle down once Tina had left, being a little overly affectionate in fact, licking his face and knocking him around. Newt would have been upstairs sooner, but he found he was so covered in erumpent saliva that he had to take a bath before he could go back upstairs. Something was clearly up with Ethel, but was it something about Tina's memory loss? Was that troubling Ethel? Newt was embarrassed to say that most of what he knew about erumpents had been hastily learned from the trader who had wanted to get Ethel sold as quickly as possible. That was one of the entries in his book he felt most guilty about as Newt had not had the opportunity to view erumpents in the wild, in large part since their numbers were few and their habitat difficult to find. His editor had made it sound as if he had, which caused him no end of discomfort. He'd have to seek out some other source of knowledge.

Clean and in fresh clothes, Newt stumbled up to the Rose Room. Tina was in the bed under a canopy of pink and white roses intersperse with little glowing fairy lights. It looked lovely, and the room was clearly doing its best. Summoning the lights of so many fairies must have taken quite a bit of effort. Newt shut and latched his case, picking it up as he looked around the dimness. Queenie was sitting in a chair by the bed, and Newt at first thought that she was as sound asleep as Tina, but she stirred when he came near.

"I'm glad to find that she was able to fall asleep," Newt said.

"No kidding. She was real worried about you, but I told her about how you didn't have any trouble with the erumpent the last time this happened, and she calmed down a little. Though she didn't seem to remember that real clearly. But it's been a long day."

"It has. Tina should be safe in here. I'll remove this," he held up the case, "so she won't be tempted."

Thinking of Tina entering the case on her own gave him a shudder of fear. They were all very lucky that she must not have passed the erumpent enclosure on her way in. If she had he might not have got there in time. Ethel did not seem to be bluffing—erumpents were not generally quick to use their exploding horn since it drained their magical power for a time afterward, yet both times she'd been confronted with Tina, she had gone straight to fight readiness.

Newt shook off the thoughts. It must be after ten, at least. He was beginning to feel the strain of the day. Was it just that morning that he'd had that unproductive interview with Hector Fawley? He turned to Queenie.

"You needn't stay—I'm sure Jacob will be missing you. You must have impressed Mother and Father for them to have let you up here—they're usually very careful."

Queenie smiled wryly. "They're not that impressed. Most of the time between you leaving dinner and me finding you guys was your mother hunting around for this," Queenie held up a long golden chain with a beautiful stone, swirled pink and green in a gold filigree setting. Newt couldn't remember having seen it before. It was certainly not among the usual family jewels that got trotted out for balls and such.

Newt raised an eyebrow in question.

"It's ruby in zoisite, prevents psychic attack," she frowned at the necklace as it hung from her hand, turning this way and that. "I'm sure it's enchanted to enhance the properties of the crystal. Wearing it feels real weird, like there's a blanket over everything. But it's not bad." Queenie lowered her voice to a whisper. "In some ways it's a relief. I've never been able to keep from hearing before, you know."

She looked completely knackered. Still in her evening gown, her hair had begun to escape from its coiffage spell, frizzing about her head in a golden halo.

"Come now, Tina's safe. You'd better get to bed. It's been a long day for all of us. But now that you and Mother have come to an agreement," Newt looked uneasily at the pendant that was still dangling from Queenie's fingers, "you can come and go as you please. We'll be safe at Blethering, at least until Tina's more stable."

"You might as well stay here til the baby's born though, right? I mean, it's real nice here, and you don't have anyplace else to take Tina."

Newt looked around rather bleakly.

"I suppose you're right. It's what we quarreled about the last time I was here you know. Mother and Father wanted me to come home. Things are at a particularly tricky stage, and Theseus can't help them. I told them no, under no circumstances was I going to come back here to have my life ruled over by someone who can't even do the job. Then here I am, a year later, back of my own accord, and with a baby on the way no less. How will we ever escape now?"

"You know this is real annoying, right?" Queenie rose from the chair and stretched. "Legilimency or no, I wish you'd just come out and say what it is your family wants you to do here. If it effects Tina and the baby, then it effects all of us."

Newt sighed. "You're right, of course. And it will probably all eventually come out. But it's up to my parents, and I suppose Theseus as well, how much I can tell whom and when. So please be patient."

Despite her protests that she'd be all right by herself, Newt walked Queenie to the door of the gamekeeper's cabin and saw her safely inside. He was halfway back through the dark and familiar forest path when he came upon a group of garden gnomes. This in itself wasn't unusual, as the creatures liked to move about in the night. But they seemed to have something cornered. Newt shooed the gnomes away with a few well-placed kicks. The last of the gnomes ran off, revealing a silvery-white swan.

"What are you doing here?" Newt wondered. The bird seemed to have something wrong with its wing. Newt awkwardly scooped it up, realizing as he did that this was not an entirely ordinary bird, but one of the flock of silver swans that lived on their lake. Why on earth would one of them be this far away? Had the gnomes captured it? While it was injured it showed no sign of being moved, and being twice the size of any of the gnomes it would have been a difficult opponent.

"Ah well, you'll have to sleep in the duck pen tonight," he said. There should be an empty cage in there for any birds that needed to be isolated from the flock. He walked past the house, past the greenhouses, away from the stables until he came to the duck enclosure. The big shaggy sheepdog that watched over the ducks lifted his head, but Newt said a few soothing words, and he settled back down, though one eye was still cracked, watching as Newt levered the heavy bird into an empty pen. The other birds sent up a bit of a commotion, but finally all was settled.

"Right then," Newt said to the animals. "I'm finally off to bed then." He looked overhead, watching as an owl swooped across the sliver of moon. "Oh damn. The owl to the midwife. No bed for me yet."

Newt sighed and began the trek back across the yard, through the house, and up to the owlery. He managed to send off one of the family owls, and then promptly fell fast asleep on the posting desk, case at his side.

A/N: Thank you so much to all who reviewed and especial shoutout to VlightPhase for the deliciously long and thoughtful reviews 3 3 3


	11. Chapter 11

Newt awoke the next morning with a start to a glowing golden orb that looked none too solid still managing to smack up against his forehead. Blearily he blinked and sat up and his mother's locator spell finally relented and stopped bopping him. Well, that was a nostalgic way to wake up. Newt yawned and realized that he'd spent the whole night sleeping with his face mashed against the hard surface of the ornate wooden desk they kept up in the owlery for posting letters. This was not at all how he intended to start the day, but at least he knew that he'd got that letter off to the midwife. He counted owls, just to be sure he actually had sent it. Yes, one was still gone. The location spell disappeared, and Newt realized that meant that his mother would know where he was, so he thought he ought to get moving.

He started to heft his case, but then thought better of it. The four owls still in the owlery were mostly sleeping, but they'd be sure to send up an alarm if anything happened to escape from his case. Also, noone but his mother knew he'd slept up here, and so they'd be far less likely to try to come and find his case. Tina especially wouldn't even know how to find the owlery, so she'd probably be far safer with it stowed up here. Looking around, Newt saw that there were a few sacks of feed in the corner. Carefully, he covered his case, and went downstairs in search of Tina and breakfast.

Newt went through the family corridor and knocked on the door of the Rose Room, but there was no answer. Downstairs he followed his nose to the kitchen where a pile of eggs and sausages was waiting in chafing dishes on the counter. Queenie and Jacob looked up from where they were finishing up what looked like a week's baking for the entire village. Neat rows of loafs levitated and slotted themselves into the oven after Jacob finished brushing them with melted butter.

"Good morning Newt!" chirped Queenie. "Coffee?" she held up a silver pot.

Newt blinked, and looked over to the table, where his mother and father sat, sharing sections of the Daily Prophet. Glorianna particularly looked pleased.

"Mother! You asked Queenie and Jacob to help with meals when Theseus' guests come." He frowned at her, but was not too proud to take a plate and fill it with the eggs and sausages on the counter. He'd only had a few bites of the suspicious pie the night before, after all. Newt accepted the cup that Queenie poured him and slumped into a chair at the breakfast table across from his parents. "You weren't to put them to work immediately."

Gloriana paused and gave him a look.

"I told them it wasn't necessary, but they insisted," she said. "And before you bolt all that sausage and run off looking for her, know that Salsify is showing Tina around the greenhouses. She'll be perfectly safe."

"And I don't think any of us are sorry to escape my turn for breakfast," said George, returning to the previous topic with a small smile. "No matter how much I try to tone down the broiling spell everything comes out at least a smidge crispier than I intend."

"We truly are lost without Mrs. Simmons and Katy. I can't tell you how fortunate we were to find them after we lost our house elves," said Gloriana.

"Lost your house elves?" asked Jacob, wiping his hands on a dish towel and turning toward the table. "How'd you do that?"

Newt focused his entire attention on his breakfast, rightly guessing that trying to give his own answer to that question would cause more trouble than hearing his mother's version of events for the umpteenth time.

Queenie sat down next to Newt and looked at Gloriana. "I didn't want to say, but with a place this size it's a little weird to be relying on no-maj help to take care of the place. I thought all the old castles in Europe came with at least a couple of house elves to keep them up."

"You're not wrong."

George eyed Newt, hiding a smile behind the sports section of the Daily Prophet.

Newt sunk further down.

"We needn't get into all that.." He sighed. "It's too early."

"You don't get to decide who hears this story, Newton," Gloriana said crisply. "When the children were small, we had three lovely elves that had been with Blethering House since the days of George's grandfather Ellory. Montefort, Gimsby and Mittens were their names. I miss them every day..."

"You miss never having to confront a housekeeping spell, you mean," grumped Newt despite his best intentions of keeping his mouth shut. What was it about this place that undermined his will?

"Watch your tone, son," said George. Gloriana continued.

"I'll freely admit that Gimsby and Montefort were a little grumpy, but Mittens was an absolute dear. And so what if I do miss not having to devote half my time to household maintenance? The horses and hippogriffs alone could keep a full stable staff busy, let alone all the livestock and gardens and groundskeeping...we are up to our ears in chores every day. A place like this is more than four witches and wizards can cope with, even with Sikes the gardener, Mrs. Simmons and Katy. But the elves managed it beautifully."

"What happened to them?" asked Queenie.

"Well," began Gloriana, "about twenty years ago, despite his having lived a life of ease and luxury, due in large part to the tireless efforts of our house-elves, a very sulky boy decided that it was unfair that they have to slave away in the house while the rest of us did nothing—never mind that we were all slaving away outside of the house—and that he would nobly release them by giving them clothes without telling any of us."

"I can still remember coming home to the wailing," said George.

"Oh no!" said Queenie, "Those poor elves! If they'd been here that long they must have been devastated."

"Oh they were. Mittens and Montefort had been born at Blethering, and had never known another home," said Gloriana.

"Wait, so they couldn't leave?" asked Jacob. "If they were stuck here, then freeing them just made them able to leave. You guys wouldn't have kicked them out, right? And you probably could have paid them. I mean, you pay the housekeeper, don't you?"

Jacob looked a little nervous, and Newt couldn't blame him. He'd just signed up to do a job for his family and Newt was willing to bet his mother had glossed over financial remuneration. But Jacob needn't be worried, his parents would make sure that they were all properly compensated.

"Of course we tried everything to get them to stay," said Gloriana. "But they were grieviously offended by the whole thing and won't come back for love or money. Montefort and Gimsby went to live up north with the Loch Laflan Scamanders, and Mittens is still with my brother Ashley. I thought Mittens at least might come back to us, but no. Even she is too deeply traumatized by the cruelty of it all."

"Moth-er," said Newt. "I was thirteen! When will we be able to put this in the past?"

"You know exactly when this will all be over," Gloriana said. "You're the one who freed them, so you're the one who needs to make it right."

"I tried! Not a one of them would talk to me."

Queenie and Jacob looked a little chagrined that what had started out sounding like an amusing annecdote had quickly turned into more family bickering. That was apparently the law of the land around here, however. Gloriana explained to them,

"When Newt left school, he had to pick up some of the slack around here, but then Ashley found him a position at the House Elf Relocation office, thinking it would teach him a lesson. But to this day, he won't properly fix his mistake with the elves."

"That's—you can't possibly ask me to do that. I'm not going to enslave any creature!" Newt said fiercely.

"You freed them, offending them to the limits of their sanity the poor dears and they'll only come back if you bind them again."

"And I won't!" said Newt hotly. "It's not right..."

George sighed and turned to Jacob and Queenie, still a little stunned at how this story had taken a turn from childish escapades to a present-day argument, even if it was a very familiar one to all parties.

"As you can see, Newt holds extremely strong views on this."

Newt crossed his arms, aware that it made him look every bit the sulky boy who'd traumatized the house elves on principle. "I would have thought that you of all people would agree with me, Father."

George held up his hands and smiled a little. "It's not that I don't understand your argument. But in all things the welfare of the creatures should come first. Yes, the relationship between house elves and wizards is a complicated one, and its origins seem to be lost in time. Scholars make much of the tales of immoral and trouble-making imps and elves, suggesting that only ended once wizards bound them as servants to stop them snatching babies and souring milk. But that's only a theory. There's no real evidence. And no spell that I know of could possibly bind an entire species of creatures throughout the millennia. House elves today are every bit as intent upon serving as they were in the days of Delphi and Zoraster. It's their nature now, whether or not it's always been so."

Newt frowned. He knew this was true. But it still didn't sit well with him. Guiltily he could admit to himself that if the elves would agree to his father or Theseus rebinding them to Blethering, he wouldn't actually object. Doing it himself, however, was too great a compromise of his morals. Why should he rule over any creature, when all any of them wanted was freedom? House elves had always bothered him. Every other creature he'd ever encountered had only wanted to conduct their daily life without outside interference unless it became mutually beneficial to do otherwise, like the hippogriffs and winged horses who vastly preferred having a warm stable to sleep in and humans to wait on them hand and foot. A little work was worth it to them. But house elves were not entering into the servant-master relationship of their own free will—there was a clear magical compulsion that made them crave the subservience. It was unnatural, and still bothered him to this day.

"In any event," George said. "This is all long ago, and we've done our best under the circumstances. Though I wish you could have tried Montefort's kippered herrings, Jacob. He was truly an artist with anything smoked or pickled. Anything fermented at all for that matter. His hollyberry mead was legendary."

George sounded a bit wistful.

"Well, we'll certainly lend a hand while we're here, said Queenie, trying to improve the mood. "I bet we can help fix up the part of the house you don't use any more. It's not good to keep things shut up—it lets the dust mites breed. Tina and I always aired out the summer cottage together. I'm sure now we could help."

"Thank you Queenie," said Gloriana. "I truly appreciate the offer."

Newt gulped down his coffee and continued to attack his eggs and sausages.

"Careful not to offer too much, Queenie, or Mother will keep you hopping like the rest of us. Except for Theseus, of course."

Again, Newt cursed himself. It was like every time he opened his mouth around his family, something awful and designed to provoke would fall out. He rubbed his face.

Gloriana rose from the table and rolled her eyes. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of whatever surface you ended up on last night. Your brother has a highly complex job of international importance. We all have our roles here. Today yours will be looking at the pigpens after you visit the stables. It seems like something's been getting into their feed."

Newt merely nodded. This was par for the course. His mother had an epic job trying to run the estate, and he could admit that he hadn't made it any easier by freeing the house elves or refusing to come back home. His stubborn streak at times overrode his sense of duty, and he wasn't certain whether or not that was acceptable. It had certainly made things harder on his parents. If only George had not officially retired, maybe it wouldn't have chafed so to help them out. But even then, Newt would still have Theseus' inheritance of the land and title hanging over his head. Or worse, the danger that both brothers had worked against their whole lives: the chance that Theseus would be passed over for Newt. Being so socially awkward had been a blessing on that front, and once Theseus had made a name for himself in the war, it had seemed settled. At home though, it seemed all was not going perfectly smoothly.

"I'm going to go check on the Aetherion stable while George does his chores. Tina and Salsify are already out in the gardens, so they can help Sikes with pest control. And then, Queenie," said Gloriana, "It will be time for your first lesson."

"Yes ma'am," said Queenie, looking as if she shared with Newt somewhat the feeling of being thrust back into youth. It was like being back at school at the mercy of parents and teachers whose interference you may not want and certainly hadn't asked for, but still could not escape without disastrous consequences for the future.

-o-o-o-

Newt spent the next few days trying to walk the delicate line of pleasing Tina by paying attention to her, yet keeping himself and her both so busy that she wouldn't realize that they hadn't really talked. There was lots to do for his parents. On top of all the chores that seemed to have been waiting over a year for his attention, his parents insisted that he let the appropriate creatures out of his case for air and exercise. Newt was a little reluctant to disturb the ecosystem he'd carefully set up, but he couldn't deny that creatures like his graphorns had been longing for some daylight. And alternatively, the moon calves had been longing for some moonlight. George, Gloriana, and Salsify had helped him to set up some barriers to subdivide the back meadow to keep his creatures safe, as well as keeping the Blethering creatures safe from them.

Newt had been surprised not to have heard back from the midwife thus far. Somehow Newt had expected to have her pounding on the gate the morning after he'd sent an owl. But she hadn't so much as sent a note back with Milton, the owl that he'd given his letter to. Newt frowned and wondered if the owl had gotten the delivery right in the first place.

"Watch it!" Salsify said, and Newt blinked, returning his attention to the tricky framework of their divider spell.

Newt and Salsify were working hard on a spell to keep a portion of the nearest lake from freezing so that the ducks would have fresh water without their having to do anything further about it. They were also to reinforce the original spell that kept the ducks from ranging too far away.

"What happened with this swan?" Salsify said.

"I have no idea," said Newt, noticing that the big bird had fit itself into the slock of ducks quite nicely despite not being able to spread its left wing fully. "I found it surrounded by a ring of angry gnomes."

"That's not so unusual in itself," said Salsify. There's precedent for gnomes to go carnivorous when faced with an injured animal. But this looks like one of the swans from the forest pond. It shouldn't be out here in the back."

Similar to the inside of Newt's case, and the areas they'd set in the meadow, the grounds of Blethering were a mismash of barrier spells, all keyed to let certain creatures pass into certain areas while others were kept confined. It had been fine-tuned over the centuries to keep a careful balance between predators and prey, giving the former plenty of shared territory with food sources, but allowing the latter means of escape so that populations would never become decimated. The higher animals that could understand the danger of being seen by muggles, such as the hippogriffs and the winged horses were allowed the run of the place, but even they were confined to the district. Yet the doxies and the murtlap had proved that something was getting out.

"I know. Do you think this has anything to do with the creatures found down in the village?" Newt asked.

Salsify sat back on her heels. She was openly wearing trousers today—which was just as well since she overbalanced and sat flat in the muddy grass at the edge of the pond. "I think it might. There's a bit of evidence to suggest that something's up. Something seems to be cutting holes in our barriers. Nothing too destructive or we should have been notified. It's more like a snip here, a little gap there. On Monday I caught one of the duskbunnies in the garden. I returned it to the side of the hill where they live, but if that happens many more times we'll have to go without carrots and cabbage for a while. That one little creature had made it through an entire row of carrots and one and a half full heads of cabbage. It must have eaten ten times its weight in veg!"

Newt frowned. "Did you figure out how it was getting out?"

"No. It must have been very subtle though, since I was being as careful as I could."

"You don't think it's anything to do with what's going on up there?" Newt tipped his head toward the rocky crag that was visible in the middle distance. Salsify turned her head to look, but then quickly turned back to Newt.

"No, it can't be. Neither of them can leave right now. And it's getting close to time. You haven't been up yet, have you?"

Newt squinted at a rocky outcropping, just barely visible from this distance. Was his father over there right now?

"No. Tina is very curious about what exactly we do here."

Salsify shrugged. "Well, why wouldn't she be? Go on, tell her the gist of it. She's your wife, it's allowed. And around here it's not exactly a secret. I bet you Theseus' friends are going to ask to see when they come up. Visitors always do."

"Tina is interested, but her sister is too...and she's a legilimens."

"I suppose that is technically not alright, but isn't it Father who should have to be careful around her then? After all he's the one with the advanced spells."

"Theseus as well," Newt said.

Salsify gestured toward the pond with her wand, sending out a little ball of light that pinged against the boundaries of their spellwork, checking for gaps.

"So you don't know then—part of Father's 'retiring' and letting Theseus play at diplomat was because he never gave Theseus the final spells."

Newt froze. "Are you sure? As first-born, he should know them, just in case—"

Salsify shrugged. "Maybe Daddy told great uncle Algie or something just in case, but I know for sure Theseus doesn't know. I heard Father's official decision a year ago, but then only a few weeks ago I heard Theseus pressing father about it, saying he'd proven himself in the war, and at his job, and that it was his right to know. Daddy said that there was still more practical knowledge he needed to gain first, and invited him up to the—you know—and Theseus about turned purple and stalked off. You know how she feels about him."

Newt winced. This was all very unfortunate. He did not want to get sucked back into life at Blethering. If he let things go any farther, he'd have no choice. So he just hunched his shoulders and got back to work, waving his wand around in intricate patterns while Salsify's orb bounced around the interior of the duck's area.

"Hey guys!" called Jacob, coming up to them with a promising looking picnic basket.

"Hullo Mr. Kowalski!" said Salsify, having warmed right up to Jacob, having learned in the past few days that his arrival usually meant mealtime. Sal let her orb bounce about without her and scampered over to a large flat rock where Jacob had set his basket.

Truth be told, Newt was also glad for a break. Newt had planned to spend his days showing Tina around the estate, but Gloriana and George were concerned about the sightings of creatures in places that they ought not to be. Although nothing new had appeared in the village, they were supposed to go down daily and surreptitiously hang about in case anyone wanted to report something who might have felt uncomfortable coming up to the house. As if any Scamander could look surreptitious in the village of Bethering-on-Fletch. Ah well.

Newt stopped his work once the spell looked sturdy enough, and sat down next to where Salsify was devouring a packet of sandwiches. Jacob handed Newt his packet.

"Your mom sure has you busy down here, doesn't she?" he asked.

"Mother and Father want everything to be perrrrrfect for Theseus' friends," said Salsify through her sandwiches. She had at least stuck her hand in front of her mouth to finish chewing. "Can't have the diplomats confronted with anything upsetting, now can we?"

"Ugh, I wish they'd stay away," said Newt. "In America they've done so much more than we have here about founding National Parks. This whole place should just be a wildlife preserve, and then we could forget about all the fussy diplomatic bits."

"And your family would what—be park rangers instead of Lords and Ladies?" Jacob looked like he was imagining each of them in Park Ranger uniform. "I don't think it works that way."

"It doesn't in the slightest," said Salsify. "We've got to keep the land, and manage it and have tenants who pay rent to get enough money to spend on keeping up the house and the rest of the property. Even with magic there's always something that needs fixing up." She gestured at the pond they'd been slaving over. "Especially with magic. No, if we break the deal that gives us the title, the land goes too. It reverts to the King and then the muggles can do whatever they like with it. And that's never pretty. It's all factories and steel mills and mining. Inefficient and produces gobs of smog. Have you ever tried to ride a broomstick over Manchester, Mister Kowalski?"

"I can't say that I have," said Jacob, amused by Salsify's tendency to forget that he wasn't a wizard.

"Don't. I've never had such a revolting experience in all my life."

Sal shuddered, and changed the subject.

"Where are your lovely ladies?" she asked.

"Theseus came home early, and he said he wanted to show them something. Take them on a walk or something like that."

Newt, in the middle of a sandwich himself, swallowed quickly. "What did he want to show them? Where? Why didn't you go along?"

Jacob looked at Newt funny. "I don't know. Something across the lake," he nodded toward the far shore. "He asked if I wanted to go too, but I was still fixing lunch. I don't think it was a big deal though."

Newt looked at Salsify for support. She shrugged. "Oh you know Theseus, he likes a chance to cozy up to every guest to try to get them hooked on his charms. Regale them with old war stories. It's probably harmless. Maybe."

Newt stood up. "I think the ducks should be done for now," he said to Salsify. "Thank you for the sandwiches, Jacob."

He walked away quickly, ignoring Jacob's protests. He whistled once, sharply, and after a few moments of quick walking, Corwin the hippogriff swooped down from the sky with a hawk's cry. He put his wing down for Newt and he grabbed on, hauling himself up and onto Corwin's back. It might be something innocuous, but Newt wanted to see for himself exactly what his brother wanted to show his wife and sister-in-law. If he was careful, they wouldn't even know he was there.

-o-o-o-

Newt looked out across the lake. There were of course many places that Theseus could have taken Queenie and Tina, but the most obvious one was the rocky outcropping that he and Salsify had been eying earlier. It would be just like Theseus to use his "position" to leapfrog over the better judgment of the rest of them. The air above the lake was wide open, and Newt wasn't sure he should follow them openly. While sneaking about was not his strong suit, Newt had to admit that he was very curious about what Theseus wanted to show Tina and Queenie, and even more about why.

He'd known that two well-connected MACUSA witches would be a draw for Theseus. Newt briefly entertained the idea that he was feeling jealous of Theseus, but that was not it exactly. Theseus was certainly not above using his very classic good looks to get whatever he wanted, but Newt had only ever heard of him being involved with anybody in the mildest of terms. He had never even begun courting anyone that Newt knew of. His name had been in the muggle society papers in connection with a few ladies whose brothers he'd gone to muggle university with, but Theseus had always laughed. As if he could become attached to a muggle. Of course he'd settle down and marry, he'd assured their mother, but it would have to be a witch. Otherwise there was too great a chance of the children being non-magical. Gloriana and George had looked at each other over the dinner table, but as usual they hadn't openly chastised Theseus.

Newt had half-wished that all Theseus' children turned out to be squibs, just to spite him, but that line of thinking would only come back to bite him, for then he'd be the heir, and suddenly become responsible for things that he had no interest in devoting his life to. Trade treaties and imports and exports were completely not his area, and to be confined to Blethering and never again allowed to travel would be awful. But still, he knew if there was truly no one else, he couldn't abandon the family duty completely. It was too important.

Looking below had yielded nothing, but when he crested a little bit of low-hanging cloud-cover, Corwin suddenly ducked back down. Newt looked up, and could see the silhouettes of three flying horses above him. The Aetherions that his mother bred were sleek and graceful. They were considered the classic mode of transport for elite wizarding families, but no winged horse was a match for a hippogriff in terms of strength or maneuverability. Corwin dropped back a few paces at Newt's urging, and then shot up, using an updraft of air to rise above the winged horses.

So far, their direction did seem to be taking them toward the rocky outcropping, but then they veered off. Newt caught a glimpse of the ground below, and realized that they'd reached the far side of the lake. At least Theseus was being sensible and dismounting before going up. Heaven knew she might not react well to seeing an aerial threat. Newt urged Corwin around the far side of the cloud cover, which conveniently touched down as mist in the stand of trees closest to Theseus and the girls. Corwin descended, and Newt thanked him for coming when he needed help. Corwin was ready to stand and stay with Newt, but he urged him to do what he liked, the next part would be fairly dodgy.

Newt looked out past a large pine and could see Tina and Queenie listening as Theseus expounded on something or other. Newt wished he had a listening spell at hand, but anything he knew would immediately be evident to Theseus. For all his bragging and scorn Theseus was a good wizard, and it would do not to forget it. Just because they had different talents didn't mean either of them was the better or worse magic user.

Growing up relatively isolated, as they had, had been hard on Theseus, and he'd made friends with the village boys in a way that Newt hadn't. But as soon as he'd been to Hogwarts, especially as soon as he'd been accepted into Slytherin, he would no longer meet his playmates in the village. His attitude changed completely, and he saw himself as above them, no matter how many times George and Gloriana made him muck out the stables without magic. He eventually learned to act as if he still enjoyed their company, to keep everyone happy. Indeed Theseus went out of his way to help wizards and muggles alike. George and Gloriana were relieved at this change in behavior, but Newt knew that inside Theseus still saw himself as a sort of benevolent ruler. And he certainly looked it as he spoke earnestly to the girls on the shore of the lake.

Tina was looking around herself, not seeming to attend Theseus at all. Newt watched her as she looked up at the craggy entrance, and felt a sudden hot rush. So maybe he was jealous after all. If should be him who was showing Tina their family's work—the only part of it he'd ever cared about—and not Theseus, who'd barely been able to take basic flight duties. He could rush in and interrupt them, but then he'd have to admit he'd been spying, and they'd know that he disapproved. It would once again set Theseus up as the open and reasonable one, and Newt as controlling and unhinged. How had this dynamic been reached so quickly?

Theseus seemed to have finished his grand speech, as he offered his arms to the Goldstein sisters. Oh, he was likely sidealong apparating them up to the top. The prohibition on apparation was absent in this part of the estate due to safety concerns. Newt looked back and saw that Corwin was still standing there. He would wait.

"Thank you," Newt said aloud. Then he thought of a place where he wouldn't be seen at the top of the hill. The whole thing looked like a pile of stones stacked haphazardly atop one another, but a little alcove off to the side offered some cover from the front, so he apparated. He had managed not to appear on top of the others, but it was a close thing. Newt peeked out and stared at Tina, feeling very silly for not revealing himself. But somehow he still didn't want to get caught. How far would Theseus go? What would he tell them about what was inside?

Tina was wearing a warm overcoat that may have belonged to Salsify, for while it fit at the top, it left her legs bare from the mid-thigh. Certainly it had been intended to be a little longer. She had mittens that she kept taking in and out of her pockets without actually putting them on. Newt hoped that someone had remembered to do a warming spell on her in the air, as he didn't know if that was something that she remembered. At least she was wearing a hat. This one was her own black cloche, which looked very well on her though Newt wasn't sure how warm it was. He wished Theseus would get on with things and get the girls out of the cold. Tina was standing on the side of Theseus closest to where he was and she her head swung around suddenly.

He ducked quickly, and she was distracted by Theseus' incantation to open the first level of enclosure spells. The way that he did it was very flashy, and very foolish, as he shouldn't ever speak a word of it aloud. Newt wanted to leap out and scold him, but he couldn't very well do that if he wanted to keep a low profile.

The place they were standing was a huge flat rock that they could stand on comfortably. It looked as though it stood before the entrance of a cave. That wasn't strictly true, as the rocky hills could not support a cavern large enough for the Scamander's purpose. But nevertheless, the entrance required them to stoop down and descend an uneven rocky stair. Theseus took the lead, then Queenie, who thank goodness was still wearing the necklace that his mother had found her, and then Tina, whose attention now seemed focused purely on what lay ahead.

Once they were a little further ahead, Newt stepped up to the entrance. He silently formed the words of the incantation in his mind, stepped through, and then neatly performed the charm to close the spell behind them. Had Theseus really been so careless or had he known Newt was there? He couldn't say, but stepping down into the rush of warm air, Newt couldn't help feeling excited. She'd scold him for taking so long to come see her. It had been over a year and now again he'd been at Blethering for days without coming up. Still, she'd always been unusually tolerant of him, and as uneasy as he felt about her favoritism when he stopped to think about it, being with her was always a pleasure.

They reached the landing where there was a kind of stone balcony that overlooked the the vast space. Theseus turned to the girls, raised his hands and said something theatrical, finishing up with an over-the-top, "Behold!" as they looked out across what had to be several quiddich pitches worth of space.

Newt nearly gave himself away by snorting aloud, but that was muffled by Queenie's squeak and Tina's indrawn breath as they saw what lay at the other side of the vastness of the space before them. It was a hollowed out depression in the rocky terrain, roofed by rock and lovingly filled with soft sand, the broader ceiling between here and there made entirely of the magic of generations of Scamanders. There was a bit of a rocky shelf to the back, but the entire area underneath was filled with glinting scales, that as one looked, slowly resolved themselves into two dragons, one nearly half again as large as the other, limbs and tails intertwined. The smaller one was bright gold and the size of one of the cottages in the village, while the larger one was much paler.

"I knew it was dragons!" Queenie exclaimed, laughing in wonder. "I just knew it!"

"Wow!" said Tina loudly. Newt, from where he was hanging back beside some over sheltering rocks, had to smile at the amazed expression on her face. Theseus spoke again, seeming a little miffed now that neither of the girls was paying him the slightest mind. Tina dodged around the large rocks by the top of the overlook and scrambled down the rough-hewn stone stair toward the floor of the space where the dragons lay coiled at the far end. Queenie called after her to stop, then started following her down. Newt waited for Theseus to stop Tina, but he merely stood at the top of the overlook, watching Tina's progress toward the dragons.

What on earth was he waiting for? Their father obviously wasn't around. The dogs weren't outside for one thing, and George's abilities would have made it plain that there were by now unwanted guests putting themselves in danger without being properly warned. And if he were with the dragons, Newt could not imagine that Theseus would have had a chance to show off the family business. George was much less inclined to showing off, and as far as Newt knew, no one besides the family had been allowed in. The female dragon had probably spotted Tina as soon as she reached the stair, but her raised nostrils flared and the crest at her neck flared out as Tina reached the floor. Newt couldn't wait any longer, apparating next to Tina, catching up her startled frame and coming back to land up on the overlook.

Tina stumbled back when they arrived, pulling her wand out of her coat and pointing it at him before she realized who it was that had grabbed her. She put a hand to her heaving chest.

"Geez! You can't just come up and scare somebody like that!" she wheezed. "I was just gonna get close enough to see them a little better!"

"You'd already got close enough to become lunch!" Newt said in exasperation. He scowled over his shoulder at his brother, who did not seem terribly surprised to see him.

"I just wanted to—" but Tina's words were drowned out by a resounding call and the scraping of scales as the dragons changed positions. The male shifted as the female rose, and she stretched her wings with a whoosh that echoed through the space. Her beautiful metallic scales glinted in the sunlight that filtered through the ceiling spells onto her outspread wings. The dragon glided forward, closing the vast distance in seconds, and coming to a stop with a cry right before them, her head by the overlook.

Queenie had ducked down at the top of the stair, looking frightened. Theseus' face was blank, when Newt glanced back over his shoulder at him, but he had his wand held before him in a white-knuckled grip. What on earth had the idiot expected to happen?

Newt moved Tina behind him and stepped up onto the narrow stone railing so that he was more on the level of the dragon's head. He reached out a hand, and the soft scales of her snout butted carefully against it.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry. I should have come right away. But things have been complicated, and I didn't want to burden you with my problems. And you're absolutely right. It was dreadfully rude to bring guests in who have not been properly introduced, and I apologize...well you're not wrong there. It was Theseus' doing," Newt admitted. No sense in trying to cover up Theseus' poor behavior, since George would doubtless be hearing about it as soon as he got back in to the dragon's lair.

"But these are not Theseus' people," Newt hurried to clarify. "In fact, as long as you'll not scare her, I'd like you to meet somebody."

Newt laughed, and turned to Tina, who was staring at him in amazement.

"Are you laughing at—the dragon?" Tina said carefully. Tina looked so like herself that Newt felt comfortably back to their usual dynamic where he's the half-crazy one and she's the voice of reason cutting into his mad plans. Not that she couldn't come up with plenty of mad plans of her own, but it was still somehow heartening to see the disapproving yet interested raise of her eyebrow once more. Newt hopped down from the rail and moved over to Tina.

"Yes, she's very funny," he said.

"But I can't hear anything. Is this like your Mom—animal legilimency?" Tina asked, as he ushered her forward.

"Not exactly," said Newt. "I don't read her thoughts, I just know what she's saying."

"But I didn't hear anything—that doesn't make any sense!"

Newt grinned at her. "I always find it endlessly amusing how quick witches and wizards are to discount the vagaries of magic when they fall out of their scope of experience."

He put he hand on her back and urged her to take the last few steps to the rail.

"This isn't exactly how I'd envisioned this meeting going," he said, turning back to the huge golden eyes of the dragon who was interestedly sitting on her haunches and stretching her neck up to just the right height. "But nevertheless, I'm very pleased to introduce my wife, Porpentina Scamander. She very regrettably does not remember any of the times I've talked about you, but at one point she could not wait to meet your acquaintance."

The dragon shifted, bringing her head even closer to Tina and blinking politely.

Tina looked at Newt for help, and he sort of mimed a half-bow half curtsy that meant pick one, but Tina just copied him. She looked uncomfortable with that part, but then she stepped forward all on her own, taking in all the splendor of the dragon. Newt hear Queenie's gasp from behind them, and waved his hand to indicate that all was well.

"Hi," Tina breathed, reaching the railing and stepping up onto it. "You sure are beautiful. And huge."

Newt laughed again. "She likes you," he said. "And you are right. Please allow me to introduce our own Queenie—Regina draconis—the only Great English White in existence, at least for the moment."

He nodded toward the far end where the male dragon was now trying to make himself large enough to cover the entire nest in the back of the lair.

Tina looked at him, understanding dawning, then back at the dragon before her, smiling hugely.

"Wow, so you're gonna have babies soon? We haven't been telling most people this, but Newt and I are gonna have a baby too!"

Newt didn't have time to look behind him to see if Theseus heard. For Reggie had leapt into the air, snatched Tina up in one careful talon and soared back the way she had come. In a flash, Newt met them at the nest, Queenie's scream still echoing across the space from now the opposite end. The male dragon startled and hissed at his appearance.

"Sorry, she just took my mate, I'm sure under the circumstances you can see how that would be troubling. Yes I know she'll be careful. But we've been going over this for centuries with you lot. Dragon careful is not the same as wizard careful which even then is nothing like muggle careful. I'm now glad that Jacob's been kept so busy, he might never recover from this."

By now, Reggie had gently deposited Tina on the soft sand of the bottom of the lair. Tina, thankfully, didn't seem so much frightened by the experience as invigorated. Her cheeks were pink, and she stepped right up to the edge of the nest as Reggie indicated.

"Thanks," Tina said to her.

The male dragon was a rare Easling Gold. The Scamanders had spent most of Newt's childhood hunting up acceptable mates and introducing them to Reggie. It had taken great feats of diplomacy, many permits, and heartening shows of international wizarding cooperation as they flew dragons back and forth from their native habitats to "interview" with Reggie, as had been the epithet Gloriana used around children when she remembered. He'd been out of the house already when this dragon had showed up, though he'd been involved in the process like they all had. Still, Newt was not nearly so comfortable with Tina so close to the male dragon as he was with Reggie, and without quite noticing it he had gripped his wand inside his coat pocket.

The male, sensing some threat, recoiled over the nest. Reggie exhaled, and gave them all a pointed look. Newt guiltily released his wand. She brushed back her mate from the nest so that Tina could see the eight eggs, each one more uniquely beautiful than the last, clustered close by one another.

Newt crouched down, stretching out a hand but waiting for Reggie's permission before touching. She graciously nodded, and Newt was thrilled to find that the eggs were properly scalding and also that there were signs of movement in many of the eggs, especially the large off-white one that was covered with an even sheen of gold. The outside of an egg really couldn't tell you that much about the dragonet inside, but Newt was as hopeful as his father that this egg would be the next White Queen. English Whites, as far as the Scamanders knew, and their knowledge stretched back merely centuries when millennia would be more useful, had never been so much a breed of dragon as a phenomenon. There were only two at a time, and they were always female. Reggie was not the original Dragon of England, the one that had got the Scamanders set up with all this land and entangled in muggle politics, but she was the next one on. Though they hoped that she would live for another century at least, it was exciting to live during her breeding years.

Tina had knelt beside Newt, and had also placed her hand on an egg, this one a bit smaller, with big silver splotches over a cream backdrop.

"It's so hot!" She marveled, removing her hand after a second. "But I could feel movement inside! How much longer before they hatch?"

Newt stood up. "I can understand my parents' anxiety much better now."

Of course they wanted him home. The last time there had been dragonets at Blethering had been Reggie's hatching, and the records kept about how long the eggs incubated for had been spotty at best. George hadn't really had any idea how long they were looking at. Dragons went anywhere from six months to ten years between laying and hatching their eggs, and they had figured that since Reggie was so huge she'd be on the longer end of the spectrum. But now, just five years in, the eggs showed every indication of hatching soon.

He got up and smiled at Reggie.

"This is very exciting! My goodness, if these all hatch the next few years around here are going to be very busy indeed!"

What were his parents thinking letting Theseus have his friends up for the Christmas holidays? They should get every Scamander aunt, uncle, and cousin down here, since they were going to have to sit with the eggs constantly, probably starting around now, until their hatching, and then they'd have to feed the little ones—goodness, there was a lot to do. Could the five of them plus Tina, Queenie, Jacob and Sikes cope if the dragonets emerged right away?

Newt looked around, dazed, and jumped when a heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder. He turned and saw the very serious face of his father, one hand on his shoulder and one on Tina's, as he hauled them back and away from the nest. The next thing they knew, he had apparated them back to the overlook, where Queenie stood wringing her hands and wiping away tears.

George set his hands of the railing, his back to them, and looked out over the lair. He look a breath and then turned toward them, fuming.

"Newton, please explain exactly what you were thinking, bringing two completely unqualified witches into such a dangerous situation? You forget—the way the dragons treat you is absolutely nothing like the way they view other human beings. If Theseus had not come to get me, your recklessness could have gotten Tina killed."

George's anger remained a burning ember even as he solicitiously helped Queenie back to the gamekeeper's cabin, going so far as to summon the carriage pulled by winged horses to transport her across the lake. Queenie seemed to be in shock from the fear of her sister being eaten by dragons, as well as having twisted her ankle when she'd tried to follow Tina down the stair. Newt felt extremely guilty that he hadn't checked on Queenie immediately once he'd gotten Tina to safety, but he had been so focused on Tina and Reggie that he hadn't even spared her a thought.

Newt and Tina sat on the red velvet bench of the carriage across from George and Queenie looking like two kicked puppies. On top of Queenie's unfortunate misstep, Newt felt badly for having got Tina in trouble, though some small part of him rebelled at the idea of a lot of grown witches and wizards still being subject to tattling and being punished by ones parents like schoolchildren. Newt himself was responsible for a casefull of endangered creatures. The fate of entire species rested in his hands. Yet he was also responsible for Tina, and he kept forgetting that for all she was becoming more lucid and having better interactions and her longest and shortest term memory seemed improved, she was still not herself.

Perhaps he ought to have been more careful with her. He honestly didn't know how much personal defense magic she remembered.

The carriage landed gracefully outside the gamekeeper's cabin and George levitated Queenie carefully through to her bedroom. Once Queenie was tucked in bed and Jacob was summoned to look after her, George asked Newt to come with him up to the house.

"Can I come too?" asked Tina in a small but determined voice.

George looked like he was about to refuse, but then abruptly nodded his head and strode off through the back gardens and through the French doors into the Drawing Room. Newt and Tina followed silently and warily seated themselves on the blue velvet sofa.

George paced around by the fireside as if he were a caged lion. Newt couldn't take more than a few moments of this and started, "Father, Theseus brought them there, I just showed up when—"

"When what? When you saw that your brother was interacting with your guests—guests who are now family to all of us, and not your own private property?"

"They're not—we're all adults, father, I'm not treating them like playthings," said Newt. His cheeks burned at the accusation. "But why did Theseus bring them out and then abandoned them once I revealed myself?"

"Revealed yourself? You accuse me of treating you like children, yet you yourself were playing hide-and-seek with your own wife's safety—with your own child?"

"I had everything under control—Tina was in no danger! Ask Reggie—"

"I know that you and Regina have an unusually strong bond—one which makes it all the more strange that you so casually abandon her when it suits you—but the male has no such attachments. If he'd struck at Tina there would have been nothing you could do about it."

"He was looking to Reggie. If you'd just ask her—"

"Enough! One can't simply ask the Dragon of England to arbitrate fraternal disputes!" George walked up to the window and pressed his fist against the frame.

"What absolutely awful luck I've got. One son who's scared stiff of the dragons and another who doesn't have the slightest flicker of the natural respect that we ought to have for nature's most awesome predator."

"But you also have a daughter, right?" said Tina, speaking for the first time.

George was startled by her interjection.

"That's true. And she'd likely make a more competent Lord Warden than either of you boys! Unfortunately Salsify is not eligible."

"Because she's a woman?" Tina asked.

George sighed. "It's true that traditionally she cannot hold the official title, though there have been witches who performed the duties involved at Blethering. But before we had any children Gloriana and I decided that no girl would be required to stay at home, because we could not be certain that she'd ever be recognized by the Crown as an heir. We could never tie her to the estate when she wouldn't have any security."

"But you'd do that to me and Tina, even while Theseus sneaks around plotting for influence knowing he's getting the whole thing?" Newt asked sulkily. He hated the conflicting feelings that he had about Blethering and Reggie and all the rest of it. He loved the dragons, the hippogriffs, the hills and the lakes, but he couldn't get stuck here forever, especially not when Theseus would continue to be the legal heir.

George threw up his hands. "And what would you have me do, cast Theseus out and give it all to you? You've spent your entire life claiming that you want nothing more than to get away from this place, but here you are, having come to us of your own free will, telling me that the reason you won't do your duty is some sort of jealousy of your brother?"

He was quite worked up now, tearing at his hair so that it stuck up like a red halo. Newt wasn't certain if he'd ever seen his father so upset. He shrunk back against the back of the sofa as George continued to berate him.

"You think that just because he doesn't get on with the dragons that Theseus isn't doing anything to advance this family's work, but he has the ear of the Minister of Magic, and the muggle parliament as well. Just this past session he introduced legislation to add hundreds of acres of property to the historic landmarks trust—land that could insure space for both wizards and magical creatures to exist without muggle interference. He has also helped to place countless wizards and witches into muggle universities to help further their education and influence muggle discussion around issues our community believes are important. Theseus is a great politician, and just because he doesn't have Reggie wrapped around his finger the way you do doesn't make him any less a Scamander."

Newt stared blankly at the floor. Perhaps he was letting years of bullying, of animosity and disagreements cloud his judgment. Somehow he didn't doubt that Theseus was a great politician, just the way he had never doubted that Theseus was a great war hero, convincing muggle field troops to work together with magical deployment, saving countless lives and doing so at great risk to himself. Yet the way he lorded his position over others, the way he wouldn't hesitate to bully to get his way, rankled with Newt and made trust impossible.

"But why did Theseus bring my friends to the lair in the first place?" asked Newt.

"He told this morning that he would be inviting your guests to see the dragons after lunch—not to confront them in their nest, but to view them from the overlook—because he thought that you'd been dancing around things and confusing them. I would have been there to show them around but for more trouble in the village."

Newt exhaled sharply.

"But then why didn't he tell me—"

"Why didn't you ask him what he was doing instead of sneaking about after him?"

Newt closed his mouth, swallowed and glanced at Tina.

"I didn't want to seem petty," he admitted. "Theseus has made me out to be controlling—"

Now George sighed. "You boys really do bring out the worst in one another. You couldn't be controlling if you tried. It's one of your best points, really, but the fear of becoming what you hate has made you too sensitive on the point. And Theseus has been doing so well, even going so far as to invite a girl down for the holidays."

"A girl?" Now Newt was sitting straight up. "I thought it was just a few fellows from the Ministry."

"You saw how close those eggs are getting to hatching. I think if it were just a few boys from the office your mother would have made him wait til spring at least. But this is the first time Theseus has specially asked to have a witch down, and we thought the least we could do was make it as easy on him as possible."

Newt blinked.

"But that doesn't necessarily mean he's—"

George sighed. "No it doesn't. We're trying not to get our hopes up. But then neither of you boys has exactly been forthcoming about romantic matters. I think your mother and I were both moved to tears when Salsify confessed her crush on Timmy Longbottom second year—perhaps grandchildren were not a completely hopeless dream."

He seemed to remember once again that Tina was there, and the particulars of the situation, and became slightly embarrassed.

"Of course, that is turning out much differently than we could ever have imagined." He indicated Tina who was still sitting rigid on the sofa, and sighed.

"I must apologize to you, Tina, for getting so worked up. But we have a very serious duty to discharge, especially now that the next generation of eggs is about to hatch. We need all the help we can get, so please know that your presence here is appreciated. We're very glad to have you."

Tina couldn't quite manage a smile, but she nodded.

The door handle jiggled, and Salsify came bouncing into the room oblivious to the somber mood. She had changed back into skirts under her robes and had a packet of post under her arm.

"Owl for you, Tina!" she said brightly. "I wonder who knows you're here?"

She was about to turn over the envelope when Newt rose and plucked it from her hands.

"It's from the midwife," Tina said, looking at the return address when he handed it to her.

Newt froze, and Salsify did a double take when she saw his face.

"Wait, what?"

Newt wasn't sure what to say, so he looked at his father. George was carefully looking out the window.

"I think I'd better get back to work before dinner," he said. He retreated back the way he'd come, and Newt watched as he hastened out the back door.

"Midwife?" Salsify repeated.

Tina bit her lip. "Oh yeah, you didn't know about the baby." She smacked the letter against the sofa. "I'm getting real tired of all this back and forth who knows what business."

Salsify whirled to Newt.

"You didn't want to tell me? Why? Why does everything have to become so complicated whenever you're here?" She turned on her toe and strode back across the room.

"Sally, wait—" Newt said, but his sister was already out the door. Newt turned to Tina, but she was shaking her head at him.

"Let her cool off. Let's go upstairs and see what Jane says we should do next," Tina said.

Newt helped her up. For once he was perfectly willing to be told what to do by Jane Moon-Leanfear, especially as he'd been making a mess of it on his own.


	12. Chapter 12

Queenie had had a rough few days of it. Instead of immediately recovering from her fall, she'd had to rest in bed while the torn muscles and ligaments around her ankle sorted themselves. Magic was all well and good for mending a broken bone, and Gloriana had plenty of experience doctoring animals with breaks and all manner of physical and internal difficulties, but the best thing for getting one's body back in working order with itself was still a bit of rest. This didn't suit Queenie at all.

Salsify had trudged up the path to the cabin to deliver all the texts relevant to legilimency that Gloriana could recommend from their library. Gloriana's hands-on approach with animals sometimes belied her very research-based approach to everything else. Queenie, Newt was now sure, would not have been in Ravenclaw had she gone to Hogwarts. Rather than cheering her, the arrival of the big books made her groan. Newt had been bringing Tina by to visit when Salsify had arrived, levitating book after book from the bag she had brought.

"I'd rather wax all the floors in the front of the castle—without magic!" Queenie groaned.

"It's not so bad honey, there's probably some real interesting stuff in there," said Jacob encouragingly. After the upset about finding out about Queenie's injury, Jacob had been taken by George to view the dragons, from a safe distance of course, and he had warmed up to the whole place even more. He'd been entrusted with a few magical objects to make him a little safer on the grounds, like a completely impermeable mackintosh that kept him warm and dry while outside, not to mention safe from any beaks or claws he might run afoul of. Gloriana had also dug up a whistle that, when blown, would transport the user several yards backward to safety. Jacob was so enamored of the effect that he could be seen rapidly blasting himself backward across the grounds as a way to get around more quickly. Between the magical objects that he was allowed to use and the hippogriff riding, and the magical kitchen that did half the work for him already by opening the oven when anything was perfectly cooked, Jacob was actually having a wonderful holiday.

The only damper seemed to be how guilty he felt about having a wonderful time while Queenie was stuck in bed with a pile of homework and the knowledge that Gloriana could appear at any moment to drill her on it all. He tried to be upbeat, but Queenie seemed to find that slightly irritating when she could well see inside his head that he was itching to get back outside, toasty warm in his enchanted outerwear, where he could explore the grounds and help the Scamanders with their fascinating household. Queenie had taken to wearing the amulet that Gloriana had given her all the time and not just around George and Theseus as she'd been instructed.

"Yeah, and some of these books have some real interesting stuff in them!" enthused Tina, looking up from where she'd already become engrossed in a spell for heightened mental fortitude. "This is a chance for you to learn how to use your gifts—a real blessing," she said sincerely.

They were in the front living area of the cabin, where all the windows let in a surprising amount of light considering the forest around the house. Queenie was carefully propped up on the deep green velvet sofa, and Tina was sitting at her side in a leather armchair with her feet tucked under her. Newt sat in a matching leather chair on the opposite side, listening to the sisters even while he organized some of his notes from the work they'd been doing on magical barriers. He was trying to make an accurate map of the various layers that kept which creatures where.

Queenie smiled into her sleeve, and turned to Tina with mock-severity. "I like that. You're the one who gets all excited about this spell-book stuff, and you want me to be grateful you scared me half to death running headlong at a dragon—"

"A very nice dragon!" Tina interjected.

Salsify had been leaning over Queenie's shoulder at the sofa, delivering the last of her load of books.

"Father says that no dragon is to be thought of as 'nice' or 'tame' but that a mutual respect may be developed by years of careful cooperation."

"Sounds like Father," Newt said.

"Well he's done more for keeping Herself on the right side of the law than you. It's not exactly easy to exercise a dragon forty meters long from tip to tail, but somehow father does it without half the trouble that you've made."

Newt rolled his eyes. So he had in his exuberant youth, done a few less than careful stunts when taking Reggie out for her exercise. Now that she had layed her eggs, she mostly stuck close to home, eating the deer and cattle that the Scamanders carefully bought or caught and gave to her and her mate. Newt did on the one hand miss the exhileration of dragonriding, but there were plenty of other matters that kept his attention.

"How did your family end up taking care of two dragons anyway?"

Salsify smirked in self-satisfaction and pulled one more book from her bag. It was A History of Medieval English Magic. Newt remembered having had the thought that this might be a bad thing to give Queenie, but seeing as her curiosity must have been satisfied by coming face-to-face with Reggie, hopefully now it wouldn't matter. She'd understand why it was so important to keep Reggie safe from the outside world, and the outside world safe from her.

"Our ancestor did a favor to the Queen, and she thought keeping a dragon around might be a good enough insurance policy to part with a good bit of land up here. It's too rocky to provide excellent farmland, and in the sixteenth century it seemed like a perfect out-of-the-way place."

"And what was the favor?" Jacob asked.

"Oh, routing the Spaniards, of course. She had a great deal of trouble with them, you know," said Salsify, with a grin. "They must have been quite surprised back home to find that their most impressive warships were destroyed by Britain's rather pitiful navy."

"But that was nothing to how surprised the Spanish sailors were by the enormous dragon that swooped down upon them and reduced their ships to ashes," finished Newt. Both Newt and Salsify were now grinning identical slightly evil grins.

Tina set down her book in her lap. Jacob was looking at them both. "So you're saying that your guy rode a dragon out to sea and roasted the Spanish Armada?"

"Yep," said Salsify happily. "That was Elizabeth's greatest victory, so you can see how she was pleased enough to place new restrictions on dragon-hunting. Sadly, the dragon that Norbert Scamander rode into battle was the last English White in existence. The muggles had killed all the others," Salsify said.

Newt looked down at his hands. "They had plenty of help from wizards as well. That's why Norbert helped the Queen, you see. He needed to convince someone to stop the killing before there was no one left."

"So that dragon in there is the only one of her kind?" asked Queenie, sounding more sympathetic than she had before.

"She's actually the daughter of the original Dragon of England," said Newt. "They were able to find her a mate of a related type of dragon, and Reggie was one of the only two hatchlings that inherited their mother's characteristic size and coloring. The family let the male go in Siberia, but kept track of his offspring. So the dragons that we tried out for Reggie are distantly related to her, but it shouldn't be close enough to cause any issues with inbreeding. Dragons in the wild reproduce every few decades, whereas Reggie has only gone the once in her whole life. So her mate is like her great great great nephew, or something like."

"Weird," said Jacob.

"Not really," chorused Newt and Salsify, both used to years of explaining rare-animal breeding to laypeople.

"Anyway, I'm off to the village. Jenny from the post office said she had something she wanted to ask me about," said Salsify, rising from where she'd been leaning on the sofa, "and I want to get down there before Mummy notices I've delivered these books and comes up with something else for me to do."

She strode toward the door and paused, turning. "And today is the day that you're expecting the midwife, isn't it?"

Newt grimaced. Salsify was still being a little cold with him on the subject, but he was gratified that she'd apologized to Tina and had offered her congratulations. For all her annoying little habits, she really was the most genuinely gracious of all of his family members, and Newt felt very bad for offending her.

"Yes, the midwife sent work this morning that she had finished up with a lengthy case and would be up to see us today."

"Will she be using the fireplace in the pub?" asked Salsify. "I can wait around and bring her up on my way back from the village."

"I don't think so…" said Newt. "She didn't really say."

"Well, I hope she's not planning on coming by broomstick," Sal said. "Father was saying this storm looks like it'll be the first real snow of the season."

Salsify left, the chill winter air stealing in through the door as she stepped outside. It did look gray out there. As they'd been siting and talking the room had darkened considerably. A bespelled lamp had lit itself on the end table at Queenie's head, and she reluctantly opened the book in her lap to the assigned chapter.

"You should be safe and cozy here," Newt said to Queenie and Jacob, "But please remember to pull the rope if you need anything."

The rope-pull system extended out to various parts of the grounds, and would let those in the big house know if anyone needed attention. They'd had a time of it keying it to wizards and witches rather than the house-elves it had been designed for, but it was generally reliable.

"Tina and I had better get back to the house. I don't know when the midwife will be arriving."

Tina nodded a little nervously, and she took Newt's offered arm to hurry back through the bare trees and frosty air to the solid bulk of the main house.

-o-o-o-

If Newt had wanted to keep it quiet that he and Tina were expecting, he was sadly thwarted by the events of the next few days. Salsify had visited the Innkeeper's wife, and had told her quite plainly that the dark-haired woman who Newt had brought through the village was his wife and that they were expecting a child together. This raced through the village like wildfire. The village had been starved of the regular flow of news from the big house by Mrs. Simmons and Katy's departure for Skipville and the Scamanders' every movement was naturally of great interest. They tried to keep the most obviously odd things away from the villagers, like Theseus coming and going from the disused members' club room of the pub every morning and night, but there were plenty of other little details that had not escaped their notice. Such as the very peculiar wildlife that overflowed from Blethering Wood, and the occasional sightings of winged creatures far too large to be any of the native raptors.

This was doubtless why, when the dark sky spit out a middle aged woman of severe countenance, the owner of the pub immediately ran up to Blethering house with the news. George happened to be hurrying across the front drive toward the house, having spent the morning walking the perimeter of the property nearest the house. Newt and Tina were watching the blustery scene outside from where they were sitting warm in the library. Despite the many books of spells and stories available there they were both feeling a little ill at ease. Tina had been looking forward to the visit from the Midwife, but now Newt noticed that she'd gone a bit pale and kept worrying her lower lip with her teeth. She had a thick stack of parchment that she kept sorting through and reshuffling like a giant deck of cards. Some of it was the original instruction fromt he midwife, but it seemed to have grown in size. Newt saw his father meeting the figure of Tom the barman, and with much nodding, they both walked back up the drive. George sent Tom back to his pub, and a new figure joined him at the gates and advanced toward the house.

"I think that's her," Newt said. Tina sprang up and joined him at the window, her long skirts flying behind her. Then Tina whirled back and she and Newt both took off through the small door leading to the front of the house, up to the entry, and out the front door. As soon as they reached the chill air, Newt called out to Tina to stop. Her skirts, a dark gray, were whipping around her legs like a stormcloud. Tina ignored him, calling out and waving to the figure next to Newt's father.

Once Jane Moon-Leanfear was near enough, she greeted Tina with a kind smile, but then looked appraisingly up at the towering bulk of Blethering House with its four grand turrets across the front, and leveled Newt with an unimpressed glance.

"Perhaps we should get Mrs. Scamander back inside and out of this weather, hmm?" she said when he attempted to say hello.

At least she seemed to have had a similarly quelling effect on Newt's father, whose grimace made Newt curious about the conversation coming up the drive.

"Right this way," Newt managed, and they all reentered the house. Tina looked invigorated by the short trip out into the cold and wind, but George and Midwife Moon-Leanfear both looked a little the worse for wear.

"Is there someplace in this very large house where one can warm up?" she asked. The size of the house seemed to offend her sensibilities. Newt tried not to mind, since it was extremely cold in the front part of the house. The magical heat distribution didn't do so well out front.

"Please, come back to the family apartments," Newt said. "It's much more comfortable in the magical part of the house."

The midwife raised a dark brow. "The magical part…do you mean to say that the front part of the house is entirely devoid of magic? How do you make do then, with a house this large? Why, it's practically a castle. It seems a bit disingenuous to call it a house."

"Blethering House has an old and storied tradition of mixing magical and nonmagical elements," said George, trying to dredge up a little of his ex-Lord Warden gravitas. This was impeded a bit by his removing his hat, revealing bright ginger hair which was sticking up every which way. "We have kept the front of the house in the traditional way to offer hospitality to muggles."

"Muggles? In a magical home? This is highly unusual," she said. "And those villagers did not seem nearly so surprised to see me land as one would suppose. I was ready to obliviate them, but the barman came out of the pub and escorted me up here."

"Yes," said Newt. "It is unusual. But you see, it's all perfectly legal. This is the seat of the Lord Warden, and as such has some exemptions from the Statute of Secrecy."

Jane Moon-Leanfear remained poised, but her other eyebrow joined the first to reveal her incredulity. She looked between George and Newt, settling on George.

"Lord Warden?"

George cleared his throat. "Emeritus. I resigned the official post two years ago and passed it on to my son."

The midwife stared back at Newt.

"No, no—my eldest son. Theseus Scamander." George hurried to explain.

"Ah. Well, that makes far more sense," she said.

They had reached the door that led into the back part of the house, and as they passed through the warmth had them all sighing.

"May I take your cloak?" Newt said politely, wand outstretched.

"Yes thank you," the midwife answered. "Though I will hold onto my bag."

Newt carefully levitated the capacious cloak over to the coat tree standing in the side of the corridor. It was wet, probably from moisture in the clouds if she had in fact arrived via broomstick. There was no evidence one way or another.

"Did you have a good trip up, Jane?" Tina asked anxiously. "It wasn't too bad I hope. Did you fly?"

"I did fly," said the midwife, smiling faintly at Tina, "though the weather certainly left something to be desired. Well. Shall we sit, or would you like me to conduct the home inspection right away?"

Tina and Newt looked at each other, and then, as if they were children, back to George. He sighed.

"Why don't you settle Madame Moon-Leanfear in the library, since the fire is already lit, and I'll see what can be done about some tea for you all. I do have to mention that there are some areas of the house that are strictly off-limits, both to Tina and to visitors, due to structural instabilities. It is very old, and some parts are in better shape than others. Newt will have to guide you through the accessible parts of the house."

"Thank you, Mr. Scamander, that should be quite sufficient for the time being. I will let you know if there are any concerns that need to be addressed after my inspection."

George nodded after a slight hesitation, and set off for the kitchen.

Tina turned and led the way back to the library, where she offered the midwife the comfortable wingback chair that Newt had been sitting in while they had waited for her arrival. Tina sat back in the matching chair and turned to watch the midwife.

Newt pulled over a wooden stool that they used to reach the upper shelves and seated himself at Tina's elbow. Once the midwife had arranged her robes, opened her large carpetbag and set a quill to taking notes, she spoke.

"Well Mr. Scamander, this is something of a surprise. You had seemed determined to stay in London when we last met, and now here you are ensconced in an extremely comfortable and unusually large house. Why did you lead me to believe you have nowhere to go when in fact your family home was so suitable?"

"Uh, well, you see—my family—"

"Your father seemed quite pleased about the prospect of a grandchild when he greeted me. Are there other family members that objected to the news?"

"Er, not exactly. Though it was a bit of a shock," Newt stuttered out. "I mean, I was just as shocked you remember, to find out at St. Mungo's."

"They were shocked because they had no idea who I was," Tina said. She sounded ever so slightly petulant. Newt winced.

The midwife squinted at a roll of parchment she had taken from her bag.

"You mean to say that they had forgotten you? I was under the impression that Tina was the only individual effected by the unfortunate memory spell."

Tina carefully did not meet Newt's eyes.

"I guess they never knew about me in the first place," she said, the hurt tone in her voice more prevalent now.

Jane Moon-Leanfear turned in her seat to regard Newt.

"Well you see," he began, "Tina and I had just gotten married a few weeks before her injury, and in that time, I hadn't managed to send off an owl, and then afterward, of course, I was thoroughly occupied searching for a cure—"

"Most people," the midwife interrupted, "would immediately send word of such a misfortune to their loved ones."

"My family and I—well, my parents and I," Newt searched for the best way to put it. "We had had a falling out last year."

"You had a falling out that resulted in your refusal to notify them of your marriage?"

"Um, yes."

Newt had been staring very carefully at the moving shapes and patterns in the carpet at their feet, but he steeled himself and looked up. Both pairs of eyes on him looked very unimpressed with his answer.

"Tina and I had talked about coming back to England later in the year, perhaps in the spring," he said defensively. "I had thought we could meet my parents and sister down in London, and do introductions then."

"Your parents and sister—but you also have an elder brother then, correct? The current Lord Warden."

Newt answered slowly. "Yes. He lives here. He's—we're not close. We've never been close. But he's away in London at work right now, as he is much of the time."

For a moment it felt like the midwife might inquire further, but then she moved on. "So the residents of the house are presumably your parents and elder brother, you had mentioned a sister? Elder or younger?"

"My sister is nine years younger. She traveled for a year after finishing at Hogwarts but now she's back at home. She's probably around here somewhere if you need to meet her."

"That won't be necessary. Any other siblings or family in residence?"

"No. Well, Tina's sister Queenie and her husband Jacob who I believe you met in London, are staying in the gamekeeper's cabin."

"Ah. Any other people in residence? House elves?"

"There's a gardener, Sikes, who has a cottage on the grounds."

"Wizard or Muggle?" she asked.

"Squib, actually," Newt answered. "There's a muggle woman and her daughter who usually help my mother, but they're away visiting a sick relative."

The midwife gave a wave of her wand, and the quill suspended in midair by her right side sprang into action. "Pets or livestock?" she asked.

"Yes," said Newt.

"Ah yes, you mentioned that you were traveling with a case of exotic animals. Is that what you were referring to?"

"Among other things. My mother breeds Aetherions and racing hippogriffs. We also have quite a rich number of native species, magical and non, on the grounds here."

"Hmm. Any that are particular cause for alarm? Any that might pose a danger to a pregnant female with limited magical capacities?"

Pregnant female…why was that jogging his memory? What had posed the biggest threat to Tina thus far? It wasn't Reggie, no matter what his father believed. It was actually Ethel, the erumpent. Of course—erumpents, for all their good nature most of the time, were competitive breeders.

"Hey! I can still do magic," Tina protested.

"Of course you can, dear, but you are naturally limited by your memory loss. Have you gained back enough of your auror competency to defend yourself adequately?"

Tina frowned. "Not really. I can't remember much outside of school at Ilvermorny," she admitted.

"Then it will be up to your husband to take care of that side of things. Mr. Scamander?" she said sharply, "Are you paying attention?"

"What?" Newt emerged from his thoughts. "I've just realized, Tina! Erumpents are highly competitive, and females who suspect that their mate has impregnated another will fight them to try to ensure that it's only their genes that are carried on to the next generation!"

"What? I thought your erumpent didn't have a mate. It's just the one in there."

"Exactly! She's sort of impressed on me, since she's without other male companionship!" Well, that was one mystery solved. Newt had not for the life of him been able to figure out why Ethel had singled out Tina, and why now. But of course, she must have scented that Tina was pregnant, and been ready to defend what she saw as her territory.

Newt smiled happily at the resolution of this troubling puzzle, but when he looked up, both witches in the room with him were staring.

"You have an erumpent, inside your case, that is under the impression that you are her mate?" asked the midwife.

"Well, I did sort of mislead her a little in order to get her into the case in the first place," Newt admitted. "But it was for her own good—there were poachers arriving, and using erumpent musk was the only thing that I could think of at the time to get her to come quietly. Erumpents are, after all, very capable creatures who would be difficult if not impossible to subdue forcibly without risking injury."

"And you had Tina around such a creature?" the midwife looked ready to sweep Tina up and put her in care.

"I—uh—Tina was never exactly in danger. I made sure to get her out of harm's way well before anything could happen."

Newt guiltily realized that this was not true. When Tina had sought out Dougal inside of his case it was only chance that had kept her scent far enough away from Ethel that she hadn't immediately gone on the offensive.

"Anyway. The creatures inside my case are endangered, and are heavily protected. Tina is to stay away from them, and there should be no trouble."

The midwife looked unconvinced.

"Really," Tina broke in, "The only time I came close to that beast, Newt was right there between us. I came straight upstairs and everything was fine. He's really amazing with all those animals. If you could only see the baby occamies, and all the bowtruckles. Did you know that while bowtruckles look like sticks, the babies look like fat little green berries? They're so amazing, Jane."

The midwife nodded slowly. "Well. I am concerned, but there has never been a wizarding home that I've inspected that has been completely safe. However, I want to impress upon you both that this inspection is not just for the comfort and safety of an expectant mother, but to begin to childproof the environment so that when the baby comes, they will not be in undue danger. Were you and your siblings raised in this house?"

"Yes. We had a nurse, when my brother and I were very young. Though at the time there were also three house elves charged with keeping us safe."

"And all three are no longer in residence?"

"No." Newt glanced at Tina to see if she would push the subject. He suspected that either Queenie or Salsify had filled her in on his emancipation spree at the age of thirteen, but he would prefer not to address it with the midwife.

"Then you will likely have your work cut out for you."

"The nursery is still upstairs, though, and probably in decent working order."

"Then let us start our tour there."

Newt rose quickly, and led Tina and Midwife Moon-Leanfear up the winding back staircase to the corridor with the family rooms. He hesitated at the landing.

"Would you like to see Tina's room? It's just down the corridor in this direction," he started.

"Afterward," commanded the midwife.

So Newt turned the opposite direction and led them past Salsify, Theseus, and his own bedrooms, turning to the back area that contained his parents' private rooms. The walls in this corridor were wood paneling, though not quite so dark as downstairs, with green and gold floral wallpaper above. Newt tapped a bird hiding in the foliage of the wallpaper with his wand.

Tina scrunched up her nose in thought. "Is that a bird of paradise?" she asked.

"A phoenix," he replied.

"Hmm," said the midwife, as the paneling moved out of the way to reveal a double door. Both the top and bottom portions were shut firmly.

"They used to leave the top half open so that we could speak to mother and father when they came by without them having to actually come all the way up," Newt explained.

Tina looked appalled. "They just left you in there?" she asked.

"Well, we weren't alone," Newt said. "Our nurse was with us, and we had a kneezle who used to come up to see us. And we were let out for chores, once we were old enough. And to take air in the garden. But when we were very small, well, it's as she said." Newt nodded his head toward the midwife. "It was for our own good. Mother fwoopers do keep their young in the nest until they can fly, you know."

"Yes, children cannot wander a house like this unattended, not until they're old enough to avoid the most obvious dangers. Very prudent of your parents," she said. "And you may call me Jane."

"Oh," said Newt, somehow pleased, though it had little to do with him that his parents had been very traditional about caring for magical young. They had made their way up the staircase, these walls patterned with paper covered in animals, some mundane and some magical, that pranced and leapt about. Newt smiled at how familiar it was. There were the expected winged horses and griffins, sphinxes and lions, but also nifflers and ducks, flantanagers with their showy bills, and kneezles. There was even a friendly Basset Hound, and the smoking snout of a dragon, mostly obscured by a large boulder. The stair wound up two and a half stories, and opened into the nursery, which was a good portion of the attic level of the house. It was a little dusty, but mostly as Newt remembered it. Drop cloths covered much of the furniture.

Newt removed them with a flick of his wand, and banished them and the subsequent cloud of dust to the lawn below.

"Oh wow," said Tina, taking in the carved tree house and wooden fort in the corner, as well as the two neat single beds on the opposite wall. There were shelves of toys and books, and the far corner had been set up as a classroom, with a blackboard, and two little chairs pulled up to desks that still contained the child-sized quills and inkwells.

"This is nostalgic," said Newt, walking over to a shelf, no more than knee-high now, that contained baskets of various seashells. He'd spent hours studying and categorizing them, and had squealed with joy when his grandfather, whose collection it had originally been, had brought back a new specimen from his travels as Lord Warden.

Jane the midwife had her wand out, and was testing the various protective wardings on the room.

"Still in very good condition. You might want to put another layer of inflammability on the whole thing, and of course improve the air quality, but on the whole I'm quite impressed. If you are planning to keep your child in this area for the first three years, I can qualify this space as safe."

"You mean, keep the baby up here all the time?" asked Tina, looking as if this were some form of child abuse.

The midwife smiled. "Do you think you were out and about unattended as a small child?" she asked. "Magical children attract trouble many orders of magnitude greater than their muggle counterparts, who aren't too shabby at getting into it themselves, believe it or not. But tiny witches and wizards also have an amazing capacity to cause destruction that most muggles simply cannot match in scale. Unstable and emerging gifts need a safe place to flourish, and believe me when I tell you it is exhausting trying to parent them in the best of circumstances. Any sane witch or wizard needs to know that their children are in a safe place when they can't immediately attend to them. No one's saying that you can't take your baby down to dinner or out to the garden. But you will likely want to stay up here as well, especially as long as you're nursing."

The midwife tried to open an arched wooden door to the side of the beds, but it stuck fast.

"I think it still goes to my mother's room," Newt said. "But it should be possible to change it so that it goes to Tina's." He indicated the door on the other side of the beds. "And that goes into the nurse's quarters. The door opened, showing a further room with furniture covered in white cloths. Newt remembered sitting on his nurse's lap listening to stories of lands far away. He'd always loved hearing about the creatures in her stories, of course, but he'd listened happily as Theseus asked for stories of the noble wizard-princes over and over.

"Excellent. That will be quite suitable. Tina, if you are concerned about leaving your child and are not planning to employ a nurse, you could move up to these quarters."

Newt nodded. "There's plenty of room. The nursery was built to accommodate a good many more than three children at a time, as some of the earlier Scamanders had vast quantities of children. I have plenty of second and third cousins twice removed to prove it. Father was one of four, and then of course there were the three of us, but as you see, there were only ever two of us in here at a time because of the age gap between my brother and I and our younger sister."

"How long a gap?" asked the midwife.

"Nine years between Salsify and I, and Theseus was eleven when she was born."

"Do you know how many miscarriages your mother suffered in the interrim?" she asked. Newt looked startled.

"I—why would you think?"

"It would be unusual to have such a gap without some explanation." She shrugged. "Every situation is different, of course."

Newt frowned. He'd known it was a bit odd to have such a gap in ages, but he'd never thought about it before, whether or not his parents had intended to have more children or whether Salsify had been a sort of happy accident. They concluded the tour of the nursery and Jane the midwife had huffed in amusement at the eagerness of the Rose Room to impress. It was extremely demure in pinks and whites with festoons of rosebuds twining round the bedposts. It had somehow managed to rustle up a matching pink and white bassinet from somewhere, and Newt wondered if it had overheard the midwife's suggestion that Tina move up to the nursery after the baby was born.

It managed to comport itself relatively well, and the midwife declared herself satisfied. They returned downstairs to the library where her bag sat waiting. Jane seated herself in the chair next to it, and Newt and Tina stood awkwardly like schoolchildren waiting for a disciplinary decision.

"I must ask, where is that case of yours being kept, Mister Scamander?" she asked.

"Um, Newt, if you please," he said, not wanting to lose the ground he felt he'd gained by getting on a first name basis with the imposing witch. "And I do have to be able to access it to care for the creatures."

He cast a nervous glance at Tina, "But I've been keeping it, um, out of the way," he finished lamely.

"Ah, so you've been trying to keep Tina from becoming tempted." She turned to Tina. "If you do come across it, Tina, do I have your word that you'll stay out of it?"

"Yes," Tina said.

"Then we have concluded the most pressing points of a home inspection. If either of you have any concerns about the physical environment, please let me know, and we can get someone up here to scry for you."

Newt and Tina nodded, though Newt thought it would be a cold day in a dragon's den when his father would let a diviner poke her nose about in Blethering House.

"Now, there is the matter of Tina's memory difficulties. I had the occasion to spend quite a bit of time with Professor Slughorn this past weekend up in Hogsmeade."

"Did you?" asked Newt, surprised.

"Yes. In fact, it's why it took me such a long time to respond to your owl. Mrs. Slughorn gave birth to a girl Sunday evening, and did very well under the circumstances, the poor woman. Slughorn," Jane Moon-Leanfear still did not seem to approve of the man, "was extremely preoccupied with his work developing a potion for Mrs. Scamander. I certainly didn't approve of the fixation at that particular moment, but I daresay we all deal with stress in our own ways. A pity that so many men choose detachment."

She rounded on Newt, looking him straight in the eye. "You don't seem inclined to do that, Newt, at least not naturally."

"I—hope not?" Newt said, not entirely sure what she meant.

"See that you don't let outside conventions press you into such behavior. We'll see how you do when it's your turn. But despite his preoccupation, Slughorn did convince me that any potion he made would be safe for Tina to take during pregnancy—indeed, taking steps to recover her memory may help her feel more confident and in control, which are only to the good for someone doing the hard internal work of becoming a mother."

"So you permit Tina to go to her appointment in London this Saturday?" Newt asked.

"Yes. Just be sure to follow the instructions to the letter, and to keep me advised of any developments. Slughorn assured me that Healer Lockhart—who certainly seems to have her head screwed on straight—will continue officially supervising Tina's case."

Jane opened her carpet bag and took out a wide and sturdy old-fashioned looking broomstick. It was almost round as a bucket, with a gnarled handle, nothing like the sleek things being sold in Diagon Alley for quiddich. "And Tina does seem much more stable," the midwife admitted. "Keep up the good work. Do you have a good place to kick off?" She asked.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay the night—" Newt began. The storm had died down, but it was sure to be an unpleasant flight.

"No, I have other clients to see to," she said simply.

Newt led her and Tina up to the North Tower, which was even higher than the nursery, and mostly abandoned. It had been bedrooms capped with an observation desk at the highest level when Blethering House had housed a great many more people. Newt opened the latched door, and the midwife mounted her broom and kicked off. Newt waved as she ascended, but didn't know quite what to make of her last remarks about keeping up the good work. He hadn't done much, and wished desperately that he was able to do more to help Tina come back to herself. "So, we have permission," Newt said awkwardly. "Are you going to want to go to London, or do you want to put it off?"

He couldn't quite bring himself to say cancel, since he couldn't bear the thought of never having Tina come back to herself ever again. What would it be like, always living with a different version of his wife, both of them knowing that things weren't quite right?

"Let me think about it," Tina said quietly, looking out over the dark clouds. She turned back toward the stair. "Can I go look at the nursery room again?"

"Of course," said Newt, turning and latching the door against the elements once more.

-o-o-o-

Queenie had been able to make it up to the house under her own power after a couple of days. Though she said she hated to miss the midwife's visit, she seemed in good spirits, and Tina was very glad to see her. Despite having been to visit her at least twice a day since Queenie had hurt herself, Tina had still seemed listless. Newt knew she blamed herself for frightening Queenie into twisting her ankle, but Queenie had waved off her apology and said that Tina had always been impulsive. It had taken her a long time to learn to temper that with self-defense and good judgment, so maybe Tina could remember that was something that was important enough to her to work on. Tina had nodded, and looked sobered. As soon as she'd left the Gamekeeper's Cabin, however, Tina had exploded that she'd known that the dragon wouldn't hurt her and Theseus and then Newt had been there and it sure was frustrating having one's younger sister suddenly act all high and mighty.

Newt smiled, but had to privately agree with Queenie that walking into danger was something that Tina struggled with. Why, if she hadn't gone to Brooklyn on her own that night, everything would be so different right now. For one thing, they'd probably still be in New York. They'd have their own lives and their own pursuits, without the interference of Newt's family. He hesitated, unable to imagine exactly what they would be doing in New York at this moment. Would it really be so different? A small voice asked. Would you really have planned to raise a baby in a place where you had next to no family or connections, or even a job? Tina had a career as an auror, but would not have likely wanted to continue the risky and demanding job while pregnant and caring for an infant. It certainly wouldn't have been fair of him to depend on her doing so. No, Newt gloomily conceded, they would probably be back in England anyway, and as the housing market wasn't hinged upon Tina's mental health, nothing would have been different about that either. In fact, they might have ended up at Blethering begging for a place to stay all the same.

Still, Newt could not help but feel like everything would have been different with his Tina—his actual wife in possession of all her memories. He had never spoken at great length about his upbringing, but when he'd mentioned bits and pieces she had always seemed curious, and Newt couldn't help but feel that it was a bit unfair to her that she wasn't getting to experience it all with her usual sense of wonder.

But the Tina of now, sitting at table beside her sister this time, was also quite curious, even if she did not have any details from prior conversations to draw on in her explorations. She was in a girlish green dress that Queenie had made for her from an older gown that Tina had found in the Rose Room closet. Queenie had chosen to give it a high neck and calf-length pleated skirt, so while the silk fabric was fine enough for a dinner gown, it still had a bit of an awkward, in-between look to it. Newt looked up over his beet soup and caught Queenie's eye. She looked like she knew exactly what he was thinking, even though she still wore the heavy amulet that would prevent her from hearing his thoughts.

Was this her way of reminding him that Tina was still a child mentally? Or was the reminder for Tina? Newt had avoided spending too much time with her alone. After the Midwife left, Tina had occupied herself with cleaning up the nursery, and going through its contents. Newt had left her to it, because whenever he was alone with Tina lately, she seemed to want something from him. Whether it was just simple affection or something more, Newt still felt it would be wrong to give in to her when she wasn't exactly sure what she was asking for. If he changed the subject or tried to speak lightly of other things, she could get quite depressed. So Newt had left her to her work upstairs, and had done extra chores for Salsify so that she would have the free time to keep Tina company.

Sal had got Tina to help her make the dinner tonight, which was an interesting dish that Salsify had come back with from her travels after graduating. There were chunks of lamb or mutton in a rich spicy sauce, filled with vegetables and herbs over a fluffy kind of grainy pasta. It was quite good.

"Where exactly did you say this dish was from, Sally?" he asked.

"I picked it up in Morocco from a witch I stayed with for a few days. She was extremely handy in the kitchen. You should have seen her spice cupboard! It was a treasure trove. The dish is called couscous. Well, the stuff at the bottom is called couscous. I'm not entirely sure what to call the stuff on top. Some kind of curry maybe?"

"It's delicious, dear," said Gloriana. She looked especially tired this evening, and Newt wondered what she had been up to the past few days. Apart from handing out chores at breakfast, he'd hardly seen her.

"How were things in the village today, Daddy?" asked Salsify. George set down his napkin in his lap and cleared his throat. He also looked tired, but had finished up his obsessive walking of the perimeters of the property early on this day so that he could go down to the pub and listen to the concerns of the locals. Theseus was away on business, not due back for two more days, and Jacob was in the kitchen preparing the desert. George looked round at Newt and the four ladies before answering.

"They were enlightening. Thankfully there have been no more creatures destroying tenant property."

"But were they upset? About the murtlap and the piskies?" Gloriana asked. "What is the general feeling?"

"I'd say they were wary, but as usual I was impressed with their fortitude. I have never been sure exactly how much knowledge of wizardkind the locals have."

"Shouldn't they not have any?" asked Queenie. "I mean, what with the Statute and everything. I know you guys make exceptions for spouses, for which I"m real grateful—but isn't it dangerous for any group to know about us?"

George sat back in his chair, and deliberated a minute before deciding what to tell her. It was difficult to explain Blethering Village to outsiders, whether muggle or wizardkind.

"Blethering was set up to be a sort of trial attempt for us to live together. When Queen Elizabeth gave the grounds and the surrounding land to Norbert Scamander, it was with the understanding that his tenants would be muggles, and would be aware of magic and his powers, though the dragons were still supposed to be a secret. There was some concern that if countries on the continent were aware that her majesty had a dragon at her beck and call, they would do whatever they could to get one of their own. Our ancestor, of course, was completely horrified by the thought of dragon-on-dragon violence in the name of nationalistic conflicts, so he agreed to keep our dragons out of sight.

"I believe they tried to be open with the muggles in the village, but too much familiarity led to overwork. Norbert's wife was something of a healer, and she was put to it mending breaks and scrapes, and then the plague came and she had to heal an entire town. She was glad to do it, but the exhaustion was cited as one reason why when she suffered a blow to the head during the construction of the portico on the front of the house, she immediately died."

"Oh, that's so sad!" said Queenie.

"Yes, and it had the effect of placing some distance between the family at Blethering House and the villagers. Norbert wasn't exactly cruel to them, but he couldn't help but blame them for depleting his wife so that something that ought to have bounced right off her ended up killing her like a muggle."

"I can see that," said Tina. "That would be hard to get over."

"Anyway, it's led to a strange relationship with the villagers. We talk to them, and help them when we can, but not so much with magic. At least not when they can see," Salsify added. "And for their part they seem to want the things from us that other villagers do from their landlords. Keep things up, donate heaps of money to the school, keep that ridiculous sweeping lawn that they can point at from beyond the gate when relatives come to visit. Oh, and go to church."

Salsify sounded rather glum about it.

"Oh," Queenie sounded surprised. "Do you guys follow a muggle religion?"

"Not exactly…" Gloriaana stifled a yawn. Mother, yawning at the table? She must have really overworked herself. "We attend the church in the village because it's a very useful way to connect with the villagers and tenants. They're all in one place, and then of course we also get the vicar on our side. Priests can be very troublesome, but we've been quite lucky. Both of the ones that we've had at St. Ambrose's here in the village since I've been here are very live and let live. Besides, there are some very fascinating and beautiful aspects of the muggle liturgy. There is certainly something to be gained from any prayerful reflection."

"So you're Wiccans then?" pressed Tina. Religion was not usually a major function of life in Britain outside of the muggle church holidays, but Newt had noticed that in America there was a little more discussion around it, perhaps because of their status as a melting pot of cultures.

"Well, we celebrate the high festivals like everyone," said George carefully, "as well as the muggle holidays. But we're not terribly religious on the whole."

"When our Grandpa married our Grandma, she made him officially convert to Wicca," said Queenie, "Even though she wasn't religious herself. She said it was the best way to stay on the right side of MACUSA at the time. But as he got older, he went back to Judaism and even got our parents to send us to Hebrew School when we were little."

"So we follow a muggle religion a little bit too," said Tina.

"It does give a fascinating alternate perspective on the world, doesn't it?" Gloriana usually loved delving into anthropological discussions like world religions, but now she covered her mouth as a yawn finally escaped her. "Excuse me please. I think I've overextended myself for the day. Please apologize to Jacob—I very much regret missing the dessert that he's prepared."

Gloriana inclined her head at them and left the table.

"Well, since you're used to muggle religious stuff, perhaps you'll come to church with us," said Salsify. "Misery does love company, after all. The vicar's always after us to sing with the choir for the Christmas holidays. He'll be in ecstasies that you're home, Newt."

Both Goldstein sisters perked up at this.

"Why?" asked Tina, looking between Newt and his little sister.

Newt heaved a sigh, and narrowly resisted setting his head down on the table. Perhaps climbing all the way under the table would be better. Salsify grinned evilly, then feigned surprise.

"What? You didn't realize that you were married to the man who was the most prized boy soprano in this part of England? When he was home from school the priest over in the Priory Church of Lancaster would try to poach him from the village church for holiday services. Even after his voice finally changed he remained an—and here I quote directly the visiting bishop—'angelic' tenor."

Newt coughed slightly. "That is all in the past though, Sally. I haven't sung in years, and there's no way—"

"You, sing?" Queenie seemed especially affronted by this. "I sing! You know that about me! Why did you never say anything about it?"

"You sing jazz and popular music!" protested Newt. "I've only ever sung in vast church choirs, and that only years ago!"

Newt glanced over to the head of the table where his father was looking extremely amused.

"Truth will out eventually, eh Newt?" he said.

Newt pursed his lips and frowned. He looked reluctantly over to Tina, who was smiling slightly. He supposed this wasn't the worst secret that could meet the light of day, but something about it was quite uncomfotable.

"You'll just have to make your church guy happy and do the Christmas singing," Tina said, "so we can all hear for ourselves."

"Really—I don't think that's a good—"

Newt was cut off by protests from around the table. Jacob opened the door from the Kitchen and came out with a huge and delicious looking trifle.

"What's all the commotion," he asked. "What'd I miss?"

"Newt," Queenie pronounced his name accusingly, "is apparently some great singer. He's supposed to sing at his church this Christmas and now he's trying to weasel out of it."

"I'm not weaseling—" Newt began.

"Ha!" A laugh escaped Jacob before he could stop it. "Good luck resisting buddy, with these three on your case."

He nodded at the three young women who were already holding up their plates for dessert.

"We'll see," said Newt. Perhaps they would forget about the singing. Maybe? Newt glanced over at Tina, who grinned. He would hope they'd all move on to some other topic. Though if Tina really wanted him to, Newt knew he could hardly refuse her.

-o-o-o-

Several days passed, with each of the Scamanders charged with visiting and revisiting the enclosures of their largest creatures to make absolutely certain that all was secure. Theseus had been staying in London with a friend, but would there was little more than a week now until his guests would arrive and there was still much to be done. On a cold and windy afternoon, Newt was coming around the back garden at Blethering House from the stables when he ran into Tina as she stepped out of Salsify's garden. It felt strange to casually run into her around the house. He'd been careful to make sure that she had company and entertainment and not to neglect her, but at the same time he had tried to only spend time with Tina in company. She looked so much like herself this afternoon though. It gave Newt hope to see Tina so engaged and purposeful and involved with family life at Blethering. Family life for the Scamanders was, of course, deeply tied to their charge to protect and care for the creatures they lived with, great and small, all of which tied back to their purpose of caring for the dragons. The winged horses and hippogriffs were of course very helpful for getting someone to ride point and cast any invisibility spell touch-ups on Reggie or her mate as they flew, while various creatures provided sustenance, protection, or ingredients. It was slightly brutal, as most farming life was, but it was functional.

Glorianna had been bulking up the stables with fliers since they would soon have to exercise not two dragons, but possibly up to ten, which boggled the mind. It might take as little as one year or as many as three before they would be able to return to the wilds of Eastern Europe with their father and fend for themselves. And of course one would be staying with Reggie to train up as the next White Dragon, at least, that was their hope.

But Theseus' little Christmas party was putting quite a damper on preparations. There should already be cousins flooding in, ready to work the moment that the hatchlings emerged from their shells. Instead, his mother was going over lavish dinner menus with Jacob and drilling Queenie on proper legillimency etiquette. Poor Queenie. She'd had almost a rougher time of it here than Tina, and that was saying something. At least Tina was free to roam around and had made something of a friend in Salsify. Queenie was too much in the house and the cabin to spend all that much time with Sal, who was tending her greenhouse or doing magical-creature-related chores most of the time. What with how she'd been worked over the past couple of years, Dumbledore might offer her the Care of Magical Creatures post, even if it wasn't her preference.

Newt waved at Tina and she smiled at him, and hurried to his side.

"Salsify's got me trying to memorize all the uses of herbs on hippogriffs. I think she thinks you've been slacking off because of that poor guy who was injured and stuck in your case."

Newt grimaced. He was never going to live that one down, was he?

"If she really wants to teach you something useful, you could ask her to research some remedies for calming graphorns. I've got a male that I'm hoping to breed with the female Queenie's been calling Princess when she's old enough, but he's very cagey. Something must have happened to him to make him so mistrustful. I keep intending to spend more time with him but I'm just overwhelmed with all the tasks and as much as I love my work, being at home has also given me other obligations—"

"Like what?" Tina looked back at where he'd come from. "Where were you earlier?"

"I was riding one of the horses down to the village."

"Jeez that's crazy! You rode a flying horse right into a village of muggles? I know you said it's an exception to the Statute, but this place is insane—"

Tina's eyes were bulging out slightly, which made Newt laugh. Even if she didn't remember it, she had been suspended merely for saving a boy from pain in front of muggles. Even though all of them had been safely obliviated, she'd been demoted to wand registration permits, something that crushed her ambitions. When had Tina stopped caring about the appearance of things and become the bold witch that he had met in New York?

"No, no. It was a regular horse. Well, Kiann would resent that description, as he's a very fine animal with warhorse ancestry, but he hasn't got wings. And how the Aetherions lord it over him in the stable! For this reason, Blethering used to have one stable for horses with wings, and one for those without, but once Mother brought in the hippogriffs, all the equines had to share. Their needs and temperaments are really quite alike—maybe too alike and that's why they don't get along."

"Oh. So you can ride a regular horse?" Tina thought about that for a second, while Newt tried not to smile. He had ridden a great many things stranger than a garden-variety horse, and Tina herself was getting some instruction on winged horse ridership from Salsify and his mother when she had the time.

"Yes, I can. Would you like to try?"

Tina looked interested, but shook her head. "Weirdly, that's one thing that the midwife said was right out. The packet says no horses, but I told her you guys used winged horses to get around here, and Jane said that might be all right because there wasn't any jolting if I only did flying and no running on the ground."

"Oh, well, I suppose that makes sense." Newt was always a little concerned to find there was a new rule or regulation on the list that he hadn't noticed when he'd glanced at it. He really ought to take a better look at that towering stack of parchment with all the midwife's recommendations. Somehow whenever he sat down to it his eyes crossed and his stomach turned over. It was dizzying to consider all the things that could go wrong with Tina's pregnancy, and that on top of it he was planning to subject her to a highly experimental memory treatment.

"But where were you?" Tina persisted. "What were you doing in the village?"

Newt looked off to the side, a little embarrassed. "Well, I was telling Father Wentworth that I was available to sing at Christmas, if he wanted me to."

"So you're going to? Really?" Tina looked surprised and interested as she had the other night.

Newt just nodded his head. As Sal had predicted, the vicar had been quite enthusiastic about the idea, even after Newt reminded him not to expect too much as he was badly out of practice. Father Wentworth waved this away and pointed out quite rightly that there was scarcely another decent tenor in the county and they might as well rejoice in what God had given them. Newt had shrugged uncomfortably and hurried home. The storms of the past weekend had kept the dragons inside, but George had wanted to make sure that Reggie and her mate each had the opportunity to exercise before staying with the eggs became too pressing. Newt looked at the sky. There wasn't going to be much time for it today, since it was already afternoon and getting cold and dark. Playing in the dark with huge and deadly dragons was not usually worth it, even considering the cover the darkness gave them. Too much could go wrong. Besides, they were reptiles, even though huge and with magically aided auxiliary circulation that kept them from suffering as much as their tiny reptilian brethren without heat from the sun to warm them. Night was not usually their time, and certainly not in the dead of winter.

Their lair was kept hot by the concentration of layers of Scamander spells on it, and Reggie likely wouldn't want to leave her nest. But she needed to keep her strength up, and it wasn't good for her to go too long without stretching her flight muscles.

Newt's thoughts were mostly on dragons as he and Tina ambled up to the house, taking the back stair up and into the family wing. Newt had thought that he would check in on the denizens of his case, which was still semi-hidden in the owlery, but he'd been keeping it from Tina so that she wouldn't have the temptation. He'd assumed Tina was heading up to her room. Instead, when they reached the corridor that went toward his parents room, Tina stopped and tugged on his arm.

"Come on," she said.

Newt had guessed that she was headed for the nursery, and his guess was proved right as she towed him over to the placed where the door was hidden. She tapped her wand on the phoenix as he'd shown her and the door opened.

"I've been thinking about what you and Jane said, about needing to protect magical little ones," she said. "Though I still don't remember being separated from everybody when I was little."

Newt shrugged. "I believe some people say that girls have more control of their magic than boys. But I don't remember Salsify having remarkable willpower. She certainly lit her share of things on fire. Though she did have two rather bad examples, as Theseus and I were always getting up to something we oughtn't."

They were ascending the stair, but Tina turned and smiled at him. "Like what?"

"Oh, my specialty was getting in with the large animals when everyone thought I was safely doing lessons or helping in the garden. I got quite good at it."

She laughed, and it warmed Newt's heart to hear the familiar sound.

"So one second you were pulling turnips and the next you were climbing up on a hippogriff? That must have driven your parents crazy."

Newt shook his head. "Oh no, if that were the case my poor parents and the nurse would have had much less to worry about. When I was very small I was actually quite good at slipping between the layers of spells up on the hillside. They'd spend an afternoon looking for me and find me asleep on top of Reggie. That was quite shocking, that I hadn't been immediately eaten, Scamander or no, and it's one of the signs that convinced my father and grandfather that she was feeling a bit broody and it might be time to try her with a mate. Other children had in the past tried it and very narrowly escaped being roasted alive."

Tina's eyes had gone wide, so Newt hastened to say, "But I never did manage to get out of the nursery. This place was rock-solid in terms of containment spells. Theseus once managed to enact an emergency contingency that got the door to open, but he was much older—nine or ten—and unbeknownst to him it also alerted my parents immediately. My mother and Madame Givern patched up that hole immediately."

"Huh," she said. "I wonder what stuff my parents would have had to say about Queenie and I. There were a couple of times we overstepped—like when Queenie really wanted a pink headband when she'd got a brown one and she changed it—and her dress and shoes and even her hair to match—but all in all I don't remember doing much magic until I went to school."

They had reached the expanse of the nursery space, with the tree house on one side and the beds on the other. Tina drifted over to one of the long row of dormer windows that looked out over the roof and sat on the window seat.

"I would love to know about small Tina too," Newt said, coming up to stand behind her and look out over the lake. It was such a shame that Tina and Queenie's aunt had turned out to be such a terrible guardian. Something really would have to be done about her. There might be little point in fighting with her, but if she had all the family albums and memorabilia that might ease Tina and Queenie's grief, she should be made to share what she had.

Tina turned to him, her eyes big and serious. "And that's one reason why I've been thinking. I want to get my memory back. I think it'll be best for this baby, to have the two parents who wanted it in the first place. I just—I don't feel ready. I still feel so sad about my parents and my grandparents, and I don't know how to take care of babies even a little. So I wanna take that potion, and remember who I am and how I feel about things. Just—I hope I don't have to lose this part of my memory to do it."

Newt frowned. "I hope it won't, Tina. But truthfully we don't know how it will work, if it does work at all."

Tina looked down and pulled something from her jacket pocket. Black and white figures beamed and hugged. Newt started. It was the photograph of them at their wedding. His hand immediately flew to his breast pocket. He couldn't feel the paper edge anywhere.

"Sorry. Your mother said yesterday that she was sorry we hadn't gotten married in England, but that she was glad we'd had a nice wedding anyway. Salsify asked how she knew, and Gloriana said you'd showed her a picture. I really wanted to see it, so Salsify swiped it while you were eating breakfast."

"You could have asked, Tina," he said in a pained voice. "You didn't need to take it. It's very precious to me, but I would have showed you if you'd asked."

"Would you?" asked Tina sadly. "Because I've hardly seen you in days. I feel like you've spent most of your time avoiding me, even after we talked about it."

Newt sighed. "The truth of it is that it's not very easy for me, Tina."

"To be around me?"

"Well, yes."

"Because you still miss her." Tina looked down at the photograph. "I guess this helps me see a little better. You miss her, and you have to deal with knowing that she—me—doesn't miss you at all. But that's where you're wrong. Part of me still does. Every time I look at you, something inside me aches, and it's even worse when you're not there. Even when I barely knew you, that feeling was there. It was kinda scary at first. But now I just want to take the potion and have it done. I want you to have her back, and I want it to stop hurting."

Tina reached up with her hand and touched Newt's face. She leaned forward, pulling him down to his knees, and Newt couldn't bring himself to move away. She kissed him sweetly, if a little inexpertly, and Newt pulled back only slightly to wrap his arms around her.

"I think that's the right decision too, Tina," he said. "I've thought about it back and forth, over and over. I know there are risks, but everything's a risk in this life, and I want more than anything to live life with you. This part of you and all the rest too."

He leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers. Little tendrils of hope wrapped themselves around his heart. Tina still cared, enough to influence this part of her personality. In all the months since her injury, Newt hadn't felt closer to his Tina than that moment.

-o-o-o-

Newt had left Tina upstairs to reflect and distract herself with thoughts about whether and how to redecorate the nursery. He'd asked if she'd like to wait and see if the baby was a boy or a girl but she'd shrugged and said it didn't make much of a difference as to whether they'd like a moon and stars mobile or flying beasts over his or her cot. Newt had a memory of a mobile from his early childhood with carefully carved miniatures of the different breeds of Northern European Dragons in flight, with the English White flying over the others at the top. He'd have to ask his mother where such a thing might have been packed off to. A quick hour spent in his case had got the animals who were still housed inside fed and watered and examined for any complaints. There was a moon calf who had been gorging a bit on pellets, and the bowtruckles had been teasing Pickett again, but other than that, all was relatively quiet. Newt had given the bowtruckles a reprieve from Pickett's peevishness by offering him a ride on his lapel, and had headed down to see if Jacob needed a hand with dinner. Despite all his mother's assurances that Jacob and Queenie would only be needed when Theseus' guests were here, the moment Jacob had set foot in the kitchen, Gloriana had gratefully retreated. Newt felt a familiar pang of guilt at how much she had to do, and at the blow he had dealt her almost twenty years ago by dismissing their house elves.

"So little brother, I hear that congratulations are in order."

Theseus smoothly oozed from behind the bookcase that Newt had just been passing. Theseus had been staying in London for most of the past week, and Newt had not realized that he was back home. He was holding the first edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the one with the rather painfully bad cover. Newt had attempted to draw a Siberian Cave Gnome, but as that entry had been edited out of the book, it not only was painfully amateur, but made no sense. Thankfully the first print run had been quite limited and sold out quickly enough to convince the publisher to commission a cover by a professional artist for the next one. Newt had never been a very good hand at sketching. Of course Theseus would love to draw attention to the awkward cover.

"Oh um, thank you," Newt said awkwardly, only after he'd spoken realizing that Theseus hadn't exactly offered his congratulations, only announced that he knew they ought to be given. Theseus looked down his perfect nose at Newt and sighed, running a hand through his fashionably slicked-back golden hair. Newt and Salsify favored their father's ginger curls, while Theseus took after Gloriana, though his hair was a little brighter than hers. Theseus had always got quite far on his looks, with both teachers and peers reacting to him with instant attraction, or at least the desire to give him the benefit of the doubt. Newt wondered what it would be like to go through life so easily, with everything laid out so perfectly. Of course there had been some upset when Theseus was placed in Slytherin, but Newt had been small and his mother had explained to him very carefully that Slytherins might favor slightly different methods of solving problems, and did not mean that they were evil or incapable of working good.

Newt had accepted this, but after Theseus had come home at Christmas that first year so changed, it had troubled Newt to no end. Theseus returned not just scornful of his little brother whom he'd always found annoying, but he had refused to meet with the village boys with whom he'd always played. Tommy Davies down at Merriwether Farm and Charles the schoolteacher's son came right up to the house and boldly asked Gloriana to have Theseus meet them in the wood by Longwood Lake. Newt had hung about, and snuck out on Corwin to spy on his brother, who at that point he still looked up to despite himself, and watched him snub his friends quite painfully. The muggle boys called Theseus a freak and seemed to want to give him a thumping, but Theseus pulled out his wand, and though Newt didn't see him perform a spell—something that would certainly be serious enough that he'd have to bring to the attention of their parents—the boys seemed scared and ran off.

The incident was made all the more disturbing by the fact that just as nine-year-old Newt was getting up the courage to go down and confront his brother, Theseus fell to his knees and burst into tears. "I never asked to be put in Slytherin!" was the only phrase that Newt was sure he'd heard in all the crying, hiccuping mess. Newt knew that if Theseus realized he'd had an audience for that complete and total breakdown, he would never forgive him. So Newt had whispered the silencing charm his father had taught him for creeping away with an ungainly beast when surprised by a muggle, and had left Theseus alone.

Later, Newt had come down from the nursery to knock on the big door of Theseus' new room, thinking he'd ask if Theseus would like to play darts or skittles. He'd felt sorry for Theseus that afternoon in the woods in a way that he never had before, but when Theseus opened his door it was clear from the icy expression on his face and the contempt dripping from his voice that he had no interest in Newt's compassion.

They had only drifted further apart from there. The only point when Newt could recall Theseus feeling well disposed toward him was when he first came to see Newt after his expulsion. He'd been positively delighted, having gotten the news while away at the muggle school, Harrow, that Theseus attended for a year after finishing at Hogwarts. By then Theseus had learned to temper or cover—Newt was never sure which—his contempt with a friendly manner that charmed muggles and wizards alike.

"Well, nobody's perfect after all," Theseus had said to Newt that day, which had struck Newt as a very strange thing to say. Theseus seemed to operate on the principle that he himself could do no wrong and that his job was convincing both the muggle and magical governments of that fact.

Then the war came, and by all accounts Theseus had comported himself well, a hero in the eyes of wizards and muggles alike. Newt had done his part, but was assigned to a remote area training dragons. It was something that he was certainly well equipped for, but every time Newt thought his squadron would see action, it was recalled and told to stand by. They really only accomplished one major action during the war, and that hadn't been enough to earn Newt any recognition, especially as he had teed off all of his superiors by being the only wizard that the dragons would actually obey, ruining their visions of scores of dragonriders flying through the skies at the Germans. Newt had argued long and hard that the dragons were just as effective if not more without the riders, but the Wizard General would not hear of such a thing.

Nevertheless, it was not as if they were a bunch of Reggies, who'd been doting on him since birth. Newt had had to work hard to earn their trust, and it had often come at the expense of his standing with the humans who stupidly tried to assert control over all the wrong situations.

Newt blinked, realizing that this had been a rather long reminiscence and that Theseus had spoken to him.

"Sorry, what?" he said.

Theseus sighed. "Pay attention. I was asking you if you intended to settle at Blethering and stay on after the child is born."

"I never intended to, but Mother and Father have asked us to. I suppose it depends."

"On?"

"We came here to try to find a cure, for Tina—"

"You keep insisting something's wrong with that girl, but she doesn't seem particularly troubled. When she came here she seemed a bit muddled, but the country air seems to have sorted her out. Just because she's been effected by an accident—"

"It wasn't an accident." That came out a little more sharply than Newt had intended. He exhaled, trying to calm down. Still, if the ponce couldn't get this much straight, there was no point in talking to him at all.

"Oh? What exactly happened then?"

Newt paused, the tone of Theseus' voice making him suddenly wary. This was a tactic that Theseus frequently employed. The victim or target of the conversation would be led to a subject that Theseus wanted to know more about, and then their version of events would be trivialized or questioned, leading them to be much more forthcoming as they struggled to set the record straight. It reminded Newt of Slughorn, acutally. Newt couldn't let Theseus manipulate him like that any more. He was an adult. Where Tina was concerned, he might be the only adult. He was certainly the responsible party.

"Tina was injured during the course of her duties as an auror."

"Tina, an auror? I know you said she worked for MACUSA, but her sister made it sound like they just served coffee and bespelled the quills."

"Queenie was a secretary in the Muggle Relations department, but Tina was an auror. She apprenticed under Percival Graves, before he came under the influence of Grindelwald."

To tell the truth, no one was entirely sure what had happened to the original Percival Graves, or when. Newt still didn't know much about him, only that he was a man Tina had spent her professional life looking up to. The official line was that he had been influenced by Grindelwald, because the President wanted to keep knowledge of the actual impersonation quiet. It did not make her organization look good to say that they had absolutely no idea how long their top auror had been missing and exactly when Grindelwald had personally replaced him. President Picquery had persuaded those present when Newt unmasked him to believe that he had only taken Graves' form for a limited amount of time, though he may have been influencing his actions beforehand. This led to the idea that Graves was under the Imperius Curse before Grindelwald used some of his tissue to prepare polyjuice potion. But if he'd been doing that for some time, then where was the real Percival Graves? It seemed most likely that he'd been killed long before anyone became aware of Grindelwald's deception, but then how would the potion have been prepared? It was a bit of a conundrum.

"Grindelwald?" Theseus' head had jerked back slightly, though his voice remained calm.

"Yes, as you would well know, MACUSA have been searching relentlessly for him after he escaped them."

Theseus set the copy of Fantastic Beasts down on the end table by the blue sofa.

"I had heard," he said slowly, "that you had been in New York at the time of his original capture. But surely you wouldn't have had anything to do with that."

Newt hesitated. He knew that his Uncle Ashley, who headed up the Ministry aurors, had the full story. Would he have shared it with Theseus? Wouldn't he have had to tell the Lord Warden anyway if he asked? Still, Newt felt that it would be a mistake to tell all to Theseus.

"As I said, Tina was an auror for MACUSA, and that was the trip where we met. She hauled me in for smuggling illegal livestock."

Theseus chuckled. "Unsurprising. How did you get off? Surely you didn't charm your way out of it?"

Theseus looked amused but disbelieving that Newt might be capable of taking a page from his elder brother's book.

"I managed to make myself useful when they had some difficulties upholding the Statue of Secrecy. For that the President was willing to pardon me, but she did send me back to Britain immediately, and it was some time before I was able to make it back to Tina."

"But did you see—were you personally in the presence of—Gellert Grindelwald?" Theseus asked. He sounded very intense and a glance at his eyes showed that his gaze was clear and penetrating.

"I was." Newt didn't see the point in trying to lie. It rarely worked on Theseus and never when he was in a mood like this.

"Did he say anything, to you?"

Newt looked at Theseus a little oddly. "He said, 'Will we die, just a little?'"

Theseus took that in, and then snapped his gaze back to the cloudy outside.

"Well, that sounds like gibberish, doesn't it?"

Newt nodded, hesitantly. "It certainly seems like the ravings of a disturbed man, but at the time…"

"Yes?" asked Theseus eagerly.

"I don't know. It seemed calculated." Newt reached out and touched the embarrassing sketch of a pixie embossed on the cover of his book. "Why, does it mean anything to you?"

Theseus pinned him with another piercing look. "To me? Why would it? I've never so much as laid eyes on Gellert Grindelwald."

Newt recalled a fact that had troubled him for years, one that he'd told his father in confidence when they'd had that dreadful row about Theseus ascending as Lord Warden. That Grindelwald-as-Graves had mentioned that he'd corresponded with Theseus. George had argued that if all of MACUSA was caught unawares there was absolutely no reason to believe that Theseus knew who he was corresponding with, but Newt had been able to tell that his parents were as troubled as he was.

"Very few wizards have, apparently. But it seems his ideas have been infiltrating the continent nevertheless."

Was Theseus aware of what had happened in Paris, the second time that Newt and Tina had encountered Gellert Grindelwald? Even Uncle Ashley didn't know all of that story.

Theseus smiled very slightly. "Yes, they are quite pervasive. Would it surprise you to hear that there is an amount of sympathy in the British Isles as well?"

Newt frowned.

"Oh yes," replied Theseus, "there are quite a few for whom the idea of stepping out of the shadows is quite attractive."

Newt sighed. "We've been down this path before. Perhaps those who can't recall the past need remedial Magical History Lessons. I'm sure Professor Binns would be happy to oblige."

"Hmm," said Theseus. "It has been tried before, it's true. But wars have been fought together with muggles now. It's a whole new world. Muggle technology may start to be useful as a substitute for low skill magic. I've heard that in New York, all witches and wizards live side-by-side with muggles, and not in their own quarter."

"That's true, but they more than anybody know the costs of violating the Statute."

"I hope that the charming Goldstein sisters will be able to tell my guests all about how they make it work at dinner next week." Theseus stalked off, leaving Newt with a sour expression. Tina and Queenie were not setpieces in some intercontinental wizarding drama Theseus had cooked up, and he didn't want them being treated that way. Theseus hadn't said that he or any of his friends found sympathy for Grindelwald's views, but something about the flip way Theseus had spoken made Newt uneasy. Still, Theseus was probably the last person to want an end to the Statute of Secrecy in Britain, since that was what put him in such a unique position of power as Lord Warden, and there was nothing so important to Theseus as his position.

Newt continued on about his day, trying to neither dwell on Theseus nor the impending trip to London with Tina that might change everything once more. 


End file.
